Stay
by Dawn N
Summary: Set in Season 3. Sam falls ill suddenly and Dean struggles to cope because he can't help his brother out of this one.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: the characters of Supernatural were created by Eric Kripke and are owned by the CW Network. No profit is being made.

**NOTE TO READERS: **This story is set in season 3 somewhere between "The Kid's Are Alright" and "Red Sky at Morning."

I hope you like this newest chapter fic. This chapter is about 5 pages long. Not sure how many chapters this story will have … most likely it will be around three to five chapters long; we'll see how it shapes up. I know I haven't written for a while but my schedule has been insane and I've had no time to write. I have plenty of ideas sketched out on stories and hopefully I'll be able to squeeze some time into my schedule to write them all, I hope. At any rate, here's a new one for you. Happy Reading! I'd love to hear what you think, but don't feel obligated to review, I just hope you enjoy it. Thanks!!

**Stay**

**Chapter One**

By Dawn Nyberg

"_If this world is wearing and you're thinking of escape I'll go anywhere with you, I'll do anything it takes, but if you try to go alone don't think I'll understand … stay with me…"_ lyric excerpt by Shakespear's Sister, _Stay_.

**The Edge of Rapid City, South Dakota**

**Grandma's Pantry Diner on Route 79**

"Sam? Earth to Sammy," Dean reached over and thumbed his brother's blue plate diner special toward him bunching Sam's paper placemat with a map of South Dakota on it, "Hey?"

"Huh," Sam finally seemed to focus on the fact his brother was speaking to him let alone scooting his plate precariously closer to the edge of the table. He reached up lethargically and pushed the plate back a few inches.

"What's up with you space cadet?" Dean frowned at his little brother.

"What'd you mean?"

"Well, let's see that spirit almost took your head off with a bed pan at that sanitarium and you've been spacing out the last couple weeks or so … somethin' goin' on in that freaky head of yours?" Dean knew Sam was troubled by the 'deal' he had made to save his life and the fact that time seemed to be moving along quickly toward his bill coming due at the Crossroads wasn't helping matters, but he couldn't let it preoccupy his brother and get Sam hurt or killed on a hunt. They were at war and Sam needed to be sharp.

"No, I'm fine," Sam answered as he squinted at his brother against the light filtering into the diner through the window. He reached up and rubbed between his eyes for a moment.

"Another headache?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, no big deal," Sam dropped his hand and stared at his plate of food despite the pain and pressure was still flaring behind his eyes.

"You going to eat any of that? It's gotta be cold by now."

"I ate some," Sam protested.

"You pushed it around for ten minutes and then spaced off … that doesn't count as eating." Dean grumbled. "Look, we're done with the job I say we head out and stay at Bobby's a few days, take a break … how's that sound?"

"I'm fine Dean," Sam answered with a little annoyance.

"Sam you say that word so damn much I don't even think it's a word anymore. We'll go to Bobby's and anyway the Impala could use an oil change."

"Yeah, whatever, we ready to go?"

"Yeah, come on I gotta pay up at the register. I'll call Bobby from the road … we're a couple hours from him and I'll give him a heads up that we're comin'. You can eat there," Dean left it as a suggestion trying not to sound like it was a big brother order. Sam simply nodded.

Dean slid out of his seat and moved toward the cashier near the front. Sam followed suit and stopped suddenly. There was a flash of light behind his eyes and everything seemed to take on a halo effect for a moment. He reached out his hand settling it on the table top, his hand landing on the edge of his brother's paper place mat and then all he knew was nothing. Sam's eyes rolled back into his head and he crumbled, his hand pulling the paper mat with him far enough that it pulled Dean's plate and silverware toward the edge and sent it crashing from the booth seat to the floor near his head.

A waitress called out in alarm and Dean spun around at the crashing sound and the waitress's yell. What he didn't expect to see was his little brother's long limbs all akimbo as he seized on the floor.

"Sammy!" Dean ran to his brother's side. He slid a hand under his brother's head trying to prevent his head from repeatedly hitting the floor as he seized. He tried to hold his brother gently on his side as the seizure continued. Dean looked up his eyes wide with intense panic and desperation, "Call 911, now!" His attention returned to his brother. "Sammy, I'm here, I'm right here, okay?" Dean spoke softly to his sibling in the hopes that his voice was breaking through. Sam's face grimaced involuntarily as he seized.

It felt like an eternity and finally the seizure slowed to a tremble and stopped altogether. "That's it Sammy, I got ya, you're okay," Dean soothed. He looked up at the small gathering around himself and his brother. "Where's the damn ambulance?" And, just as the diner manager was about to speak the sound of a siren pierced the air and Dean knew help was coming. "Hear that Sammy? Help's comin' and we're gonna get you fixed up." He continued to hold his brother's head gently in his hands and supported on his left thigh.

The paramedics came into the diner and started rattling off questions about allergies, any symptoms, personal information about his brother and Dean's mind reeled as he watched them move his brother onto a backboard and attach a heart monitor and pulse-ox clip. Another paramedic started an IV line.

"Does he suffer from a seizure disorder?" one paramedic asked as he wrote on a clipboard.

"No, Sam's healthy," and just as Dean finished answering the question another paramedic barked from the floor.

"He's seizing again … get some Ativan on board and see if that helps, come on let's get him to Regional, ASAP."

"Pushing the Ativan," one medic answered quickly. Dean stared at his brother waiting for the horrible jerking to stop. A long moment passed and the medic blew out a breath, "Ativan's working," he spoke evenly as Sam's body began to relax and stop seizing. "Let's get him loaded and go." His partner nodded in agreement.

"Sam?" Dean stepped forward as his brother was lifted on a gurney and was rolled out of the diner. Dean attempted to follow his brother into the ambulance.

"No, Sir, I'm sorry … there isn't any room, you'll have to follow us. We're going to Rapid City Regional Hospital it's on Fairmont Boulevard if you lose us in traffic. Park in the ER parking lot go to the glass entrance doors." The medic quickly closed the doors and shut Dean off from his little brother and in that moment he felt sick desperation and with the disconnect from his brother that cold fear he felt back in Cold Oak when he saw Sam brutally stabbed filled him once again. He ran to the Impala and peeled out of the parking lot trying to follow the ambulance, but it was pointless as he was held back at a red light. He hit the steering wheel in anger and when it turned green he squeezed the wheel until his knuckles were white, his mind on one thing, Sammy.

**Rapid City Regional Hospital, Three Hours Later**

Dean had finally quit pacing a little over an hour ago and still there was no word on his brother. The nursing staff at the desk had simply kept repeating the same response over and over … that when there was news the doctor would be out. Dean wanted answers now but he had to wait and that was something he couldn't do very well especially when he was waiting to hear news on his little brother. Dean alternated between watching the trauma doors to staring at his hands in his lap. There was a metal clink and whoosh noise that Dean knew was associated with the trauma doors – every time he had heard that noise in the past three hours always ended in irritation and lost hope when he'd see a doctor emerge and announce a name he didn't care about. He looked up out of reflex expecting another name another family member and when he heard "Family of Sam Kline," from a doctor in blue scrubs and white coat he leapt from his seat and surged forward.

"Sam's my brother," Dean answered quickly. "How is he?" The doctor extended his hand.

"I'm Dr. Lowe, and I've been your brother's attending physician," Dean shook the hand quickly and was all business.

"I'm Dean … what about my brother?" The doctor scanned the busy ER waiting room.

"Here follow me and we'll talk," the doctor inclined his head toward another set of automatic doors. "We can use one of the family conference rooms." Dean didn't like the sound of that …

"My brother's okay isn't he?" Dean stood his ground and the doctor offered a small smile, Dean guessed it was supposed to offer some semblance of reassurance, it didn't.

"He's resting Mr. Kline."

"It's Dean."

"Dean," the doctor restated. "Now, how about that conference room ... unless you want to talk out here with the noise and crying babies," the doctor replied.

Dean followed the man through the doors.

"Okay, Dean, your brother has given me and neurology a run for our money tonight. I want to show you something," the doctor shoved two scans up on a light board. "This is a normal Cat scan and normal MRI scan of a brain."

"Okay, so Sam's okay?" Dean hedged.

"These aren't your brother's. I just wanted you to have a reference for comparison." He proceeded to shove two more films side by side with the others. "This is Sam's CT and his MRI scans," the doctor pointed to each indicating which was which. Dean knew it didn't take a doctor to figure out that his little brother's scans were screwed up. Something was wrong, very wrong.

"What is that stuff?" Those big circle lookin' areas?" Dean saw several areas that looked likes masses. Dean felt his stomach clench and the nausea begin to climb up his throat as thoughts of multiple brain tumors entered his mind. _Jesus, please don't let Sammy have brain tumors, please…_his mind silently reeled. He found his voice, "Are those tumors?"

**To Be Continued ….**

I'll try to update as soon as I can … probably around Tuesday or Wednesday, maybe sooner if time permits. Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**NOTE TO READERS: **Thanks for all of the reviews! I hope you enjoy this newest update. This chapter is a little longer than the previous at around 9 pages long. It has a small cliffhanger. I hope you enjoy the latest update. Happy Reading, I hope!

**Stay**

**Chapter Two**

By Dawn Nyberg

"…_But I do nothing upon my self, and yet I am mine own Executioner … for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee…"_ excerpt by John Donne, _Devotions upon Emergent Occasions_

He found his voice, "Are those tumors?" Dean's face lost all color and he turned stricken eyes from the scans to the doctor.

"No, not tumors, cysts," the doctor began. Dean just stared unwilling to say anything until the doctor gave him more information. He wasn't willing to hope that his little brother wasn't dying from some awful disease and cruel twist of fate. "Dr. Goosby, one of our neurologists and I both felt the scans were conclusive but the blood tests confirmed our diagnosis from the scans. Your brother has neurocysticercosis." Dean knew neuro meant the brain and the long "C" word scared him, anything disease wise that started with a "c" to him was bad.

"So, what are you sayin'? These cysts are they cancer?" Dean's eyes focused on Dr. Lowe fiercely. "What's wrong with Sam exactly? Is he … is he…" his voice trailed off unable to finish the sentence … _is he going to die_…

The doctor picked up on the fear and the hidden question behind the abbreviated words. "Okay, first Sam isn't dying, okay? He even woke up in the ER before we took him for his scans. He was coherent albeit groggy from the seizure." The physician tried to calm some of Dean's fears. "This infection," he started. "It can be fatal if it's a heavy infiltration of the brain, but in your brother's case, although we found at least seven cystic lesions we can treat it with a course of anti-parasitic medication."

"Anti-parasitic?" Dean frowned. "You sound like my brother has bugs or somethin' in him."

"Well, in a sense he does actually… pork tapeworm eggs, or _Taenia solium_." Dean thought he'd be ill for a second but continued to stare at the physician wanting more info and the man took the prompt of silence to speak further. "This infection usually occurs in developing countries, but it is worldwide. It happens when pork is eaten that has the tapeworm eggs in it and when they hit the stomach the egg hatches and penetrates the intestine traveling through the bloodstream and can develop cysticerci or cysts if you will in the muscles, brain or eyes. In Sam's case the infection ended up in his brain. Now, these cysts cause lesions in the brain, the areas you saw on Sam's scans. The headaches, and seizures are common symptoms and even the lack of attention span you mentioned in the ER paperwork can be a symptom. Now, it's when the parasite dies from its natural life cycle or from medication therapy that the problems can occur. It is clear that the cysts in your brother's brain appear to be at the end of their life cycle and those that aren't are nearing it soon, but we'll start him on medication due to the multiple lesions and swelling."

"You said problems … is he in danger? What's this about swelling? You mean brain swelling?" Dean couldn't mask his fear from the doctor.

"When the cysts die they cause swelling around the lesions and this can lead to the headaches and seizures your brother had at the diner. Now, more serious side effects can occur, but there isn't a need to go into them right now. I want to start Sam on a course of Albendazole for the infection and glucocorticoids to address any swelling that is occurring around the lesions, but I'll only keep him on the glucocorticoids for a few days while I keep him in the hospital. I've had him started on an IV anti-seizure medication to address the seizure activity.

"So, he's gonna be okay? You can fix this…" Dean relaxed his shoulders a fraction.

"I don't foresee any problems, but every patient responds to treatment differently, so we'll see how it goes, but for the most part the albendazole takes care of the infection usually after a month of anti-parasitic treatment followed with routine scans during treatment and at its conclusion, however some patients need longer treatment and others need a medication switch if the therapy isn't as effective as it should be."

"But there could be problems," Dean hedged. Where Sam was concerned he wanted to know everything.

"Well, the drug can cause a low blood cell count which would make him susceptible to infections like the flu, but regular blood tests will keep us on top of any issues. I'll monitor his liver for any potential problems, also with blood tests. Some side effects could be easy bruising or bleeding, so he should take it easy while on his treatment, weakness and possible fever." The doctor paused and looked at Dean.

"But, other things can go wrong though, right? I don't want him in danger." Dean's voice was clear and protective.

"There are always potential side effects or reactions to medications that cannot be predicted, however I assure you this course of treatment is appropriate and if for some reason he doesn't respond to it or has a reaction there are other things I can prescribe. He's in more danger if we do nothing because of the swelling in his brain around the cystic lesions, so we've begun treatment for the infection and we are addressing the swelling. I understand how you feel I have a couple siblings myself and I'd be asking questions, too. As far as major problems that could occur if any, how about we cross that bridge if it comes to it," Dr. Lowe offered.

"How bad is his infection though, I saw a lot of those round lookin' areas."

"Well, Sam has several large cystic lesions there are some in his frontal lobe, left parietal lobe, his left motor strip, and we found what appears to be two in his left occipital lobe," Dr. Lowe showed Dean on a skull and brain diagram on the wall the areas he was talking about. Dean stared at the pictures and could only think about his little brother.

"But Sam hates pork," Dean finally said after everything.

"Well, can you remember a time in the past few months where he might have eaten pork? I know you mentioned in the ER paperwork that you've been on an extended road trip and this type of infection can go a year or longer sometimes before symptoms occur if any at all." Dean frowned and then his eyes lit up as a memory came to him.

"Sonofabitch," he hissed. "Louisiana," he answered. "We were in Louisiana about 10 months ago not quite a year. Dean remembered that was the trip where they had gone to the crossroad to help Evan Hudson get out of his deal. It had been about four months after their dad died. "It's my fault," he complained. "We were on our way outta there and I saw there was some kind of pork festival in some small town we were passing through and I wanted some BBQ. Sam didn't want to, but…"

"It's not your fault the pork was contaminated. You couldn't have known."

"Can I see him?" Dean just wanted to see his little brother with his own eyes.

"Sure, we're getting him settled in an ICU room for the next night or two because of the seizure and we'll start him on his treatment course today. The Albendazole is a tablet that he'll take twice a day. He will have been given his first dose once they get him in his room. He'll be pretty groggy because of the seizure medication I have him on, but as soon as he's ready you can see him. I'll take you up to the family ICU waiting room and a nurse will get you as soon as they have him settled, okay?"

"Thanks."

"Sure thing, and if you need anything or Sam does have his nurse page me and I'll stop in again in a couple hours on rounds." Dean nodded and followed the doctor toward ICU.

**Ten Minutes Later, ICU Waiting Room**

Dean's mind wandered back to Louisiana and that day. _"Dean, come on man, how about we go somewhere else" Sam had groused. "I mean, really a Pork Festival? That even sounds disgusting"_

"_Ah, Sammy lighten up dude. I want some BBQ and not that granola and rabbit food you tend to eat. I want some grease and BBQ. Eat a pork chop or something," Dean offered as he pulled over the car and parked off the Main Street where the festival was happening._

"_If I have to eat any of that crap it better be dripping in sauce to kill my taste buds," Sam complained._

"_Yeah, yeah, Samantha," Dean replied. "I'm starved."_

"_You're always hungry," Sam mumbled under his breath and followed his brother down the street toward the many food min-tents set-up._

Dean was snapped out of his memory by a female voice, "Mr. Kline?" Dean looked up and then stood.

"Can I see Sam now?"

"Yes, I'm Bethany Sam's primary care nurse for the evening shift," the young petite redhead smiled softly, but Dean had other things on his mind than to bother even trying to flirt. "I'll take you to him."

"Thanks," Dean answered and followed. The entered the unit through two automatic doors.

"He's resting comfortably Mr. Kline," she turned to speak to him as they walked through the unit.

"Call me Dean," he urged. She smiled and nodded.

"Okay, Dean, here we are," she stopped by a glass window where the privacy curtain was pushed aside and Dean could see into the dim room and recognized the curled figure. "There's a chair in there for you, it lies flat if you want to sleep in there. I put a pillow and blanket in there for you, too. Dr. Lowe indicated that he thought you may want to stay with your brother and he granted you permission to stay in the ICU with him."

"Thanks," Dean offered a thin smile and walked into the room. He had to see Sam with his own eyes close up. Hear him breathe, touch him. He walked into the dim room. Sam was sleeping on his side curled against the bed railing with his back to the door. Dean walked around the side, so he could see his brother's face. Sam looked pale and under the weather, but his face was calm, at peace. Dean took in the two IV lines and various IV bags, the steady quiet beeping of the heart monitor, the yellow pulse-ox clip on his brother's right middle finger and the pale blue hospital gown. The light green oxygen tubing ran beneath his nose and stood out against his sibling's milk white skin.

"Hey Sammy," Dean spoke softly not wanting to wake his brother fully. He reached down and lightly ran his hand across Sam's bangs and pushed them back gently. "Well, little brother as usual you like givin' your big brother a few extra gray hairs," he smiled softly as he sat down while pulling the chair closer. Sam shifted ever so slightly at his brother's voice and settled again. "I'm here kiddo," Dean soothed. "You're going to be okay," he assured softly.

"Dean," Sam's voice was quiet and his eyes remained closed. Dean smiled.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean's voice was gentle. "Go back to sleep, okay? Everything's gonna be fine. I'm here."

" 'Kay," Sam's response was a mere sigh and he nestled into his pillow as Dean pulled up the bed blanket further up and covered his kid brother's shoulder as he remained curled on his left side.

**Two Days Later, The Neurology Unit**

"Man, Sammy, I'm so ready to blow this popsicle stand … how about you?" He turned from the window in his brother's room and looked at him. The room had three other beds, but the room was currently empty. Sam had been quiet since waking up this morning and had been irritable when he did answer Dean's questions. Dr. Lowe had schedule Sam for another MRI this morning and Dean was eager to get it done, so he could get his brother out of here tomorrow if the scan came back okay and didn't show any more swelling or other problems. He had called Bobby and told him what happened and had already arranged with the doctor that Sam could get follow up care at the local hospital near Bobby who lived two hours away while he finished his treatment for the infection.

Sam was free of his heart monitor, pulse-ox and oxygen tubing now. He was still hooked to a single IV line with a couple bags hanging on an IV pole.

"Sam?" Dean walked over to his brother that seemed entertained by a loose thread on his blanket. "Earth calling Sam," Dean joked lightly.

"What?!" Sam snapped suddenly.

"Whoa, there," Dean replied with his hands up in mock surrender. "What's your deal?"

"You," Sam spat.

"Me? What they hell have I done but stay by your ass since you've been here, huh? This ain't Club Med you know. I haven't done a damn thing to you," Dean defended himself against this sudden outburst from his brother.

"Nobody asked you stay here," Sam retorted. "No friggin' room to breathe with you around. Why aren't you holed up at some motel somewhere or a bar … there's no point in you bein' here anyway."

"Oh, yeah, how'd you figure that one, huh? You were flat on your back havin' a seizure in a diner Sam, and you got an infection in your brain. We've been in this damn hospital for two going on three days now, so how do you figure I shouldn't be here, huh?"

"Seven months Dean!" Sam shouted. "That's it and time's up … gotta cut the strings sometime ya know … you're not gonna be around anymore … shit happens and I gotta deal with it alone," Sam raged from his bed. "Just get the hell out. I'll call your damn cell when I get discharged tomorrow."

Dean swallowed thickly and his brother's words. It was true he had seven months left, but it was in that moment that it hit him he would be leaving his brother alone and if this seizure episode and infection had happened after he was gone," he felt nauseous at the thought of his kid brother alone in some nowhere place in a hospital. "Sammy," his voice was soft as he stepped forward.

"Get out!" Sam barked.

"Fine," Dean relented. "I'll give you some time, okay?" Sam just turned away and clutched at the bed railing, his knuckles turning white. Dean slipped out of the room. He figured he'd walk around the hospital get some coffee and let his brother's tantrum blow over and be back in time for him to get the MRI and hopefully, hear that Sam was out of here tomorrow. "Hey, Linda," Dean walked up to Sam's day nurse.

"Hi Dean, what can I do for you?"

"Uh, do you know when they'll be taking Sam down for his MRI this morning?"

"Yes, it'll be at 10:30. Is there a problem?"

"Nah, Sam sort of woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, so I thought I'd give him some room until it was time for the scan."

"Sam in a bad mood," she started. "Is he capable of being in one?" Linda had only had Sam on her floor since yesterday right before she went off shift, but he was incredibly sweet she thought.

"Oh, yeah, he's capable," Dean assured with a roll of his eyes. "That kid's mood can shift on a dime some days. I think he's just tired of this place, no offense."

"None taken," she assured. "Well, I'm due to give him another injection of his steroids and a dose of his medication before his scan, so I'll see if his mood has improved."

"Thanks," Dean smiled. "I'll be in the cafeteria if you need to find me for anything."

"Okay, thanks."

**Ten Minutes Later, Sam's Room**

"Okay, Sam time for your steroid injection," Linda said as she walked in and found one of the side railings down and the bed empty. She held a capped syringe in one hand and a small medicine cup with Sam's pill in the other. "Sam?" she walked over to the bathroom door that was ajar and peeked in as she placed the medicine cup down as she knocked on the bathroom door before peeking, it was empty. Just as she stepped back she heard the room door click closed and a hand came over her mouth clamping down. She struggled against the arm around her and dropped the syringe on the floor.

"Shh, they'll hear us," Sam whispered into her ear. "I'll let go if you promise not to scream," he spoke quickly as if his thoughts were cycling a thousand miles an hour. "They hear us we're both dead got it?" Sam whispered against her cheek near her ear. "Promise?" She nodded against his hand that covered her mouth. Sam released her and she spun around. She saw her patient now, his eyes wild and a little unfocussed. His bangs were plastered to his forehead and sweat beaded and rolled down the sides of his face. The crook of his right arm was leaking blood from where he had pulled the IV needle out.

"Sam," her voice was soft as she tried to gauge her patient's mental status. He took an uncoordinated step forward.

"Gotta be quiet they'll hear you," he whispered his eyes scanning the room erratically.

"Who will hear?" Linda asked her voice still remaining soft.

"Demons," he answered flatly. "They got outta hell through the Devil's Gate, my fault. They'll kill us, kill you, can't let that happen."

"Sam sweetie I think you might be having a reaction to the steroids or your meds… let me get Dr. Lowe for you, okay?" She took a tentative step forward and Sam lunged sloppily toward her and she stepped back with her hands up.

"No," he hissed. "They could all be possessed, too many to fight, not safe."

"Sam it's okay," she tried to calm him.

"No, it's not okay, never okay," he squinted at her. His vision was fuzzy and the headache that had been nagging him all morning had flared into a tidal wave of pain.

"I'm just going to go out there and get you some help Sam," Linda tried to ease just beyond her patient and he grabbed her arm and squeezed. "Help! I need help in here!" She shouted at the closed door she was trying to reach.

"No! They'll get you, they'll get…" Sam grabbed a plastic utensil from his breakfast tray as the door burst open and a nurse and intern stood there wide-eyed at Sam brandishing a plastic knife menacingly.

"Be careful," she shouted to the medical personnel that had just entered the room. "I think he's having a reaction to the steroids or something. He's altered." Sam watched them all wild-eyed as he gauged each supposed threat. He rubbed his left temple while still holding the plastic knife in his right hand. "Sam, does your head hurt?" Linda asked trying to get him to focus.

"Too much noise, too much pressure," he complained. "They got you didn't they? The demons are everywhere you can't trust anyone, you can't…" his words were broken off as two orderlies entered the room to try and subdue him.

"Be careful don't hurt him," Linda ordered. "He doesn't know what's happening. Somebody page Dr. Lowe, stat!" The orderlies tried to approach Sam but he was in hunter mode now and he wasn't going down easily. He lunged at one and caught him on the arm with the plastic knife and dug in hard drawing blood.

"Ouch, dammit!" the man hissed as he pulled his arm back. Sam was wild like a caged animal and to him they all looked like black-eyed demons.

"Where's Dean!" he shouted. "What'd you bastards do to him? You can't have him yet, you can't!" Sam shouted. The fingers of his left hand dug into his left temple.

"Sam," Linda started. "If you put that down," she eyed the plastic knife. "I can get Dean for you and we'll make you feel better. It's gonna be okay." She stepped forward an inch and he stepped back.

"Stop! I don't want to hurt you … we can help … exorcise the demon from you, please where's Dean?"

"He's here Sam, in the cafeteria," Linda assured. "He's safe, he's not in danger."

"What do you know about safe, not in danger?" Sam spat. "He's dying, you evil bastards are takin' him to Hell 'cause he sold his soul for me, but you can't have him yet, you hear me, not yet! I got seven more months, seven!" Sam gasped suddenly making a small choking sound and the plastic knife fell from his hands. Dr. Lowe ran into the room just as Sam's eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed to the floor seizing violently.

**To Be Continued**

I plan to update on Sunday or Monday, and if writing time permits I'll post earlier if I'm able. I hope you're still enjoying the story, so far. Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**NOTE TO READERS: **Thanks for the great reviews! I'm glad that everyone seems to be enjoying the story, so far. This chapter is about 10 pages long. Happy reading, I hope!

Side Note: IM means intramuscular.

**Stay**

**Chapter Three**

By Dawn Nyberg

"…_You died before I had time…Marble-heavy, a bag full of God…"_ excerpt by Sylvia Plath, _Daddy_

Sam gasped suddenly making a small choking sound and the plastic knife fell from his hands. Dr. Lowe ran into the room just as Sam's eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed to the floor seizing violently. "Crap!" Dr. Lowe hissed under his breath. "Call a code," he yelled as he and Linda rushed toward their patient. Sam continued to seize violently as the doctor tried to get him on his side while the nurse tried to protect Sam's head. "Shit," Dr. Lowe mumbled quietly to himself as he saw blood and drool oozing out of the corner of Sam's mouth. "I think he bit his damn tongue," he commented. The code team rushed into Sam's room to assist the doctor. "Sonofabitch," the doctor said as he noticed that Sam had pulled his IV line out previous to him getting to the room. "He needs IV access, but we aren't getting it while he's seizing like this," he looked up at one of the Code Team members, "We gotta go IM, draw up 5 mg of Diazepam, come on!"

"Diazepam is in," a code team member called out.

The staff worked around Sam on the floor unable to move him until the seizure was under control. The doctor looked at the clock on the wall and shook his head. "Come on Sam," he barked. It had been five minutes and he was still seizing. "Give him another 5 mg, we gotta get this seizure under control. Linda keep his head turned as best you can, there's a lot of secretion and blood I don't need this kid aspirating into his lungs." Linda nodded. Dr. Lowe maintained a hold on Sam's side and left shoulder keeping the young man as best as he could on his side as he continued to seize.

"Another 5 mg's in," was shouted. It felt like forever to the physician until his patient slowly began to respond the medication, and finally three minutes after the additional dose Sam's body began to react and slow. The seizure ebbed out of his body slowly and ceased completely after 5 minutes from the extra dose being administered.

"Okay folks, we got the seizure under control lets get him on a gurney and ready him for transport to the treatment room. I need some suction for his mouth," Dr. Lowe took the tubing and suctioned the various fluids out of Sam's mouth to protect his airway. Let's keep him on his side while we transport. I want his IV line reestablished once we're in the treatment room," he spoke to an IV tech that responded with the Code team. They loaded Sam with careful and quick efficiency. "Linda can you call down to ICU and see if they can find a bed for him?"

"Sure."

**Forty-five minutes later, 9:00 AM, The Neurology Unit**

"Linda, we're headed to MRI for a stat scan. There's evidence of some increased edema. Did you hear back from ICU?"

"They have a bed available and they are setting up for him."

"Great, also can you page Dr. Goosby to MRI stat for Sam Kline, please. I need him on this one. Hey, where's his brother Dean?"

"Oh God, I forgot," she placed a hand on her cheek. "He's stretching his legs and getting some coffee in the cafeteria."

"Well, can you get him? I may need some kind of consent if Dr. Goosby needs to do surgical intervention after he sees the MRI's and Sam's not capable of making decisions right now."

"Has he regained consciousness yet?"

"No, he's pretty unresponsive right now. I stopped his steroids and the Albendazole. His liver enzymes came back slightly elevated and his blood cell count is a little low, and I'm pretty sure the Albendazole is causing those problems, so I'm going to switch him to another anti-parasitic. Also, based on what you and the others told me about his behavior prior to me getting to his room and his brother saying Sam was a lot more irritable this morning I'm pretty sure he was having a steroid induced psychosis of some sort, so I'm switching that treatment, too. This kid is just snowballing in ways I never even saw coming. It's like anything that could happen with the drugs or the cysticercosis is happening. The poor kid also nailed the side of his tongue pretty good and needed eight stitches."

Linda frowned in both concern and sympathy for her patient, "I'll go down and try to find Dean" she answered.

"Linda, go ahead and bring Dean to the CT/MRI lab and can you call down there and set up a CT scan for Dean. I want to check him just in case he came in contact with a contaminated piece of pork, as well. I don't need to fix one brother up only to have the other keel over in another month or so. I want a CT and if it's clear we won't need an MRI for him."

"All right, I better go find him and I'll bring him to the CT/MRI lab." Dr. Lowe nodded and left returning to his patient.

**Ten Minutes Later, Ground Floor, Cafeteria**

Dean sat in a chair leaned back people watching while he tried to decompress and enjoy his second cup of coffee. His mind had gone many times back to his brother since leaving him alone in the Neurology unit simmering in his bad mood. He looked at his watch and made a mental note to head back soon, so he could be there when they came for Sam to take him to his scan appointment. His eyes were scanning the large cafeteria when he saw Linda enter with an intense look as she scanned the room. Dean felt his heart rate pick up and pound painfully against his sternum. He was up and headed in her direction just as her eyes found him.

He crossed the distance to her in nine long strides at a jog. "What's wrong?" his eyes were intense.

"Dean," she began. "Sam had a reaction to his meds, and another seizure. Dr. Lowe wants me to bring you to the CT/MRI lab.

"Is Sam okay? Is he awake?"

"No," her answer was simple but frightening to Dean.

"How bad was the seizure?" he asked as he walked in pace with her quickly toward the Diagnostic wing of the hospital. Linda shook her head slightly.

"It lasted 10 minutes," she answered. "He bit his tongue, too," she offered. "Took eight stitches." Dean looked at her intensely.

"You said he had a reaction to the meds, what kind of reaction?"

"Well, there are some patients who will react severely to steroids and become altered mentally," she spoke tentatively as they continued to walk.

"Altered? Altered how?"

"Well, you saw a glimpse of it when you thought he was just in a bad mood, but it went beyond that just a few minutes later. Sam experienced some altered behavior," she attempted to down play as she saw Dean's concerned look.

"What happened?" Dean's tone dropped and she knew she had to tell him.

"Sam grabbed me at one point trying to say he needed to protect me … that demons were all around. He grabbed a plastic fork off his breakfast tray and lunged at an orderly. He actually drew blood. It's because of the steroids Dean, Dr. Lowe is sure of it. He was still yelling about demons and something about you selling your soul for him," she spoke softly so that other in the hallway they passed wouldn't hear. "He was altered Dean and he's been taken off the steroids. The doctor will adjust his treatment plan. I'm sure Dr. Lowe will fill you in on everything." She saw the sign for the Diagnostic Wing. "We turn here." She pointed. "Dr. Lowe also wants you to get a CT just to make sure you didn't come into contact with a contaminated food item like Sam did. It's a precaution."

Dean fought to push his emotions down at hearing about what Sam was saying. He hated that he had burdened his brother the same way their father had when he had sold his soul, but he would never regret doing what he did. He'd sell his soul a million times over for Sam if he had to. "I just want to know about my brother. I'm fine."

"You'll get to see him Dean, but you need the scan as a precaution. You don't want to come down with the same thing do you? You'd be doing this for Sam, think of it that way," she offered with a smile. Dean offered her a curt nod. She had found the magic button; he'd do anything for his brother without question or hesitation.

**One Hour Later, Conference Room**

"Your scan was normal Dean, so unless you become symptomatic at some point I doubt you're infected." Dr. Lowe asserted.

"I don't care about me Doc I want to know how my brother is," Dean replied just as there was a knock on the door and Dr. Goosby entered.

"Dean, this is Dr. Goosby, Sam's neurologist." Dean stood and shook the man's hand.

"Please, have a seat Mr. Kline," the doctor urged with a mild smile. "I have some scans to show you."

"Please, call me Dean," The doctor nodded. Dean sat back down and watched the man walk to a wall and push a computer like panel and he watched MRI scans appear. "Those Sam's?"

"Yes, and I wanted to point some things out to you," the doctor proceeded to show Dean some areas of increased swelling. "It appears there is increased edema around all of the lesions which is good and bad depending on how you look at it. Good, in the sense the drugs had begun to kill the active cysts, but bad because the edema is pronounced enough to cause seizure. As you know your brother has been taken off the Albendazole because of other medical indications and the steroids he was on were causing him to be extremely altered."

"Yeah, I know, I asked his nurse. I want to know about Sam, though. This swelling, how bad is it? Does he need surgery? I was told the seizure was bad."

"I started Sam on an IV drug for swelling and I'm hoping that does the trick. His pressure is high, but not high enough for me to go drilling into his skull, at least not yet, but the situation is guarded. Your brother did suffer a much more aggressive seizure with this increased edema. He suffered what we classify as a tonic-clonic seizure or grand mal, if you will, so I'm being aggressive with his treatment pharmaceutically right now, but if the edema doesn't respond to the IV therapy I may have consider other options."

"I was told he bit his tongue and needed stitches," Dean began. "Is he gonna have problems 'cause of that? I mean with speech or anything?"

"It wasn't severe Dean," Dr. Lowe spoke up to allay his fears. "I suspect he may be uncomfortable for a few days, but it won't cause any long term problems." Dean found some solace in that answer.

"What about him going loopy? Is he okay now?"

"His last dose of steroids was around 3 AM this morning, so it's been a few hours now since he didn't receive the other dose later this morning before his previously scheduled MRI. I suspect he'll be fine now, once he wakes up. I've increased his anti-seizure medication, so until he adjusts he may be groggy and want to sleep a lot more."

"Has he woken up yet?"

"No," Dr. Goosby spoke up. "But, I'm confident he will within the next couple of hours. The seizure took a lot out of him and the new seizure medications may keep him under a little longer, but he should wake up sometime today. We're on Sam's time." Dean nodded.

"So, there's no coma or anything like that?" he hedged.

"No," Dr. Goosby answered with confidence.

"What about that stuff in his head? Is there some other kind of medicine you're going to give him if he can't take the other stuff?"

"Yes," Dr. Lowe replied. "I'll start Sam on another anti-parasitic tomorrow and a different kind of steroid that I think will agree with him. I'd like to try and switch Sam back to Albendazole in a few days, there is a chance that the drug may have been metabolized more acutely with the steroids we were using, so I'm switching his therapy for a few days and then I'm going to try the Albendazole once again."

Dean offered a mild smile of understanding. "Few days? So, he's in here for a while then, right?"

"Yes, I'm guessing barring any further complications or additional swelling I may be able to discharge Sam in seven to ten days, but no promises," Dr. Lowe answered.

"Dean," Dr. Goosby began. "If the edema doesn't get any more pronounced then I will probably sign off on Sam's release along with Dr. Lowe, but we'll have to see." Dean looked at both doctors and nodded his understanding.

"Can I see him now?" he pushed. He wanted; no … he needed to see his brother.

"Sure," Dr. Lowe answered.

**Two Hours Later, ICU**

"I've been sittin' on my ass two hours little brother you want to open those eyes pretty soon, so I know you're okay," Dean spoke softly his sibling. He hated that his brother was back in the intensive care unit, but he knew it was needed right now as precaution. Sam was lying flat on his back with the familiar light green oxygen tubing running under his nose that Dean remembered from the first time he saw his brother in this ICU unit. The monitors beeped quietly and reassured Dean his little brother was alive albeit still unconscious. He frowned at the padded restraints that were attached to his brother. Dr. Lowe wanted to make sure that when Sam woke he was coherent and not still altered from the drugs. "You know Sammy as soon as you wake up and show these people you're not a few fries short of a Happy Meal they'll take these loony bin straps off of you." He reached up and stroked his brother's bangs gently with one hand while he laced his fingers of one hand under his brother's lax one and offered a gentle squeeze.

"Sammy, please," he begged quietly. He was rewarded with movement inside his hand as his brother's fingers curled around his own. He looked at Sam's face and watched his soft brow crease ever so slightly. "Sammy?" he urged a little louder. "Hey, sleeping beauty nap times over," he urged. He stroked his brother's hair a little more trying to urge him into the conscious world. "Sam, wake up," he tried the command tone. Sam moved now, his head turning on the pillow toward his big brother's voice. "That's it, come on," Dean urged. Sam's brow creased more and his eyes began to flutter and finally opened a few long seconds later. Dean let his brother's gaze focus on him and once he saw recognition he smiled at his younger sibling. "Hey there kiddo," his voice was soft with emotion.

"Dean?" Sam's voice held the hint of confusion. He looked around the room idly taking in the change of venue. "Different room?" he asked as he looked back at his brother for answers. He frowned at the pain in his mouth as he spoke.

"Yeah, you're back in the ICU. You had another seizure. You bit your tongue, too, so it might hurt a little to speak. The doc had to give you eight stitches." Dean replied. Sam started to lift an arm and quickly realized it was being held in place and only allowed a few inches of movement. He looked down and saw the restraints and moved his legs finding the same resistance holding them at the ankles. Dean saw the panic creep into his brother's eyes. "Relax Sammy they'll take those off now. I'll go get the Doc."

"Why am I tied down," Sam jerked lightly at the restraints.

"Hey, don't go yanking on them," Dean stood up and patted his brother's chest. "Take it easy," he pressed the call button.

"Why am I tied down like some kind of head case?" Sam's eyes were glazed but still intense.

"You had a reaction to your steroids and sort of went a little crazy," Dean answered gently. He turned to see Bethany at the door. "He's awake can you page Dr. Lowe to get these removed or something."

"I'll page him and Dr. Goosby right now," Beth answered.

"A little crazy," Sam repeated. "Define a little crazy." Dean paused a moment and decided to just say it in one swoop.

"Well, you sort of thought demons were in the hospital and you were carrying on about demons, possessions, and me selling my soul. Ah, you managed to grab a hold of your plastic knife from your breakfast tray and managed to draw blood on an orderly trying to subdue you. You grabbed Linda thinking demons we're after both of you…" Dean didn't get to finish as Sam spoke hastily.

"Linda? Did I hurt her? Is the orderly okay?" Sam looked aghast at the idea he could have hurt anyone.

"No, she's fine Sammy and the orderly, too."

"How bad was I?" Sam's face was a mask of many emotions.

"I wasn't there Sammy," Dean lamented. "I went down to get some coffee and give you some air after you through a piss fit in your room."

"I did?" Sam's face scrunched in confusion. Dean looked at his brother and studied him for a long moment.

"You don't remember tellin' me to get the hell out and that there wasn't any room to breathe with me in your room?" Sam's eyes were wide as he looked at his brother.

"God Dean, I'm sorry man, I don't … I didn't mean …"

"I know Sammy you were just bonkers on your meds, no worries kiddo." Sam offered a small lopsided grin at his big brother's understanding nature when it comes to him.

"Thanks Dean."

"No problem," Dean answered.

"No, I mean for everything not just …"

"No, chick-flick moments," Dean held a hand up and couldn't mask the smile. Sam smiled in return as his mind flashed back to a moment over two years ago when Dean said the same words to him when Dean had come to get him at Stanford and they were standing in their father's abandoned motel room. Sam simply snorted at his brother in reply.

"Sam?" the voice of Dr. Lowe came from the door and Dr. Goosby followed behind.

"Hey," Sam answered. "So, Dr. Lowe I hear I went a little nuts, huh? Is everyone okay?"

"Yes, Sam everyone is fine and the small cut the orderly received was superficial. Here," he started to undo the restraints on Sam's wrists. "You won't be needing these anymore."

"Sam, how's the head?" Dr. Gossby approached from the other side of the bed. "Do you have a headache? How is your vision?" He was leaning forward with a penlight looking at Sam's eyes.

"Hey, Dr. Goosby, things are clear, no funky vision or anything."

"What about a headache?" he pushed.

"A little, but no too bad." Sam replied.

"Sam," Dean warned knowing his brother too well. Dr. Goosby picked up on the sibling tone.

"On a scale of 1 to 10 Sam how bad is the pain?" The doctor pushed.

"The truth Sam," Dean warned. Sam let out a frustrated sigh.

"Seven, I guess," Sam relented. "But, I've had migraines that felt worse, honest."

"I can give you something for the pain to take the edge off, so you can rest. You have some pronounced edema, so that is causing extra pressure and your headache. I've started you on an IV med to address the swelling, so you should start feeling some relief, but Sam should the headache become worse, please say something immediately, okay?"

"All right," Sam agreed.

**Later that Evening, ICU**

"You call Bobby?" Sam said as Dean walked into the room.

"Yeah, he's coming here. I couldn't talk him out of it."

"It'll do you good anyway," Sam commented. "You can take a break from being in this place. Dean you should go to a motel or something, wash up, rest."

"I'm doing fine here. I shower here and that fold out chair bed isn't that bad. I'm fine where I am and you don't need to worry about me Sammy."

"Well, if I don't who will?" Sam replied sarcastically. " 'Cause you sure won't."

"Yeah, yeah," Dean answered as he watched Sam yawn. "Man, I can't wait until we're out of here."

"Sorry, it's gonna be a few more days Dean," Sam replied. "I know you hate hospitals."

"You need to be here Sammy. We'll get you fixed up," Dean tried to sound sure of himself, but Sam was still pale and dark under his eyes. Dean secretly wondered if his brother was out of the woods. Time would tell.

Sam yawned once again and Dean shook his head slightly.

"Sammy close your eyes and rest, okay?" he urged and quietly commanded.

"You sure?"

"Hell ya," Dean answered. "Is your headache any worse?"

"Nah, the pain meds are working and it's not bad … I'm just wiped out, man, I'm sorry."

"You know the doc said the anti-seizure meds were going to make you tired until you adjusted to them and the pain meds for your head that, what's his name … Dr. Goosebump or something prescribed." Sam chuckled lightly despite the dull headache.

"It's Goosby, Dean … Dr. Goosby." Dean waved an impatient hand at his brother as he sat down in the chair by his brother's bed.

"Goosebump, Goosby … what's the difference?" Dean commented easily. Sam just rolled his eyes and nestled down into his pillow turning on his side toward his big brother.

"I'm not even gonna comment," he mumbled with a smirk as he closed his eyes.

**Later that Evening, ICU**

Dean sat and watched his little brother sleep. The room was dim and the only light was from the outside hall and the green hue cast from the monitors near Sam's bed. Dean looked at Sam's lax, peaceful face and his mind went back to that horrible night five months ago when he watched Sam get stabbed. He remembered running toward his brother screaming _No_ he could still see Sam slowly collapse to his knees in the mud and rain. Sam's eyes casting upward before his head tilted down just as he reached him and grabbed him by his jacket calling his name.

Dean felt a shiver work through his body as he remembered the heaviness of Sam as he collapsed into his brother, heavy like marble, it happened so quick. His mind recalled Sam's eyes and the disconnect he saw there just before they closed forever. Sam had slipped away so quickly. Dean shook off the horrible memory of that night and tried not to think about sitting at Sam's deathbed consumed in his grief and loss for two and half days before going to the crossroad to make a deal. Dean took a breath and leaned forward his hand ghosting lightly over Sam's unruly mop of hair. He whispered with a warm smile, "I'm not sorry I did it Sam," he spoke quietly. Sam stirred a moment and settled. Dean looked once more at his sibling and folded down the chair and decided to succumb to sleep.

Both Winchester brothers slept ….

**To Be Continued**

Well, no cliffhanger this time. I decided to give you a small break, but you know me and I'm sure there are some things still yet to happen. I'll try to update by Friday or Saturday and if time permits I may be able to do it earlier, but my schedule has suddenly become a bit erratic, but I'll do my best to get the next chapter written and posted by Friday or Saturday. I hope you're still enjoying the story. Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**NOTE TO READERS: **This chapter is around 9 pages long. I thought for sure I wouldn't get this done before Saturday, but I had some free time today to finish and give you a Friday new chapter. I wanted to note that I have taken some license of the fact that some symptoms may present over weeks of therapy for some patients and others may have an acute response like Sam. However, in an effort not to make this story an epic I have taken the liberty to speed up the process in some areas, although all symptoms, etc. are valid ones dependant on the patient's individual response.

I hope you like this newest chapter. Happy Reading!

**Stay**

**Chapter Four**

By Dawn Nyberg

"…_Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for thou art with me…" _The Book of Common Prayer, _Psalm 23, v.4_

**Two Days Later, Neurology Unit, Sam's Room**

"Thanks again Bobby," Sam commented from his position under his hospital covers.

"For what?" Bobby answered leisurely as he pulled up a chair and blew on his hot coffee as he sat down.

"For staying with me, so Dean would go get some real rest." Bobby had arrived two days ago and had promptly got a motel room with a couple beds, so that he and Dean could take turns staying with Sam while the other one relaxed at the motel. Bobby knew Dean wouldn't leave Sam alone at all since the incident where he reacted to the steroids they had him on. But, Bobby knew that Dean had no room to debate if he stayed with the youngest Winchester while Dean went to the motel.

"No problem," Bobby replied. "So, when are they sayin' you can get out of here?" Bobby leaned back and pulled the privacy curtain a little more closed to shut out the other eyes in the room. Sam had three other roommates to share the large hospital room.

"Dr. Goosby and Dr. Lowe want me in here a couple more days I guess because this new drug they have me on his causing some more swelling. I guess they don't want me walking out of here only to keel over," Sam answered with a lopsided grin. Bobby smiled at the young man. His mind often clouded with the horrible, aching cold memories of Sam's death in Cold Oak. He had been so pissed at first with Dean for the deal to sell his soul, but he understood what drove the older sibling to the crossroad that night. He loved them both and the idea that he may be losing Dean in a few short months made his heart ache and he knew in many ways he'd lose both boys. Bobby knew Dean was lying to himself that Sam would be strong, that he'd be okay, Bobby knew the truth and he knew Sam was going to be angry, bitter and lost when Dean's bill comes due and he feared what the aftermath of his death would bring to Sam.

"Sorry to interrupt," Linda, Sam's nurse skirted around the curtain. "Here Sam it's time for your next dosage." Sam took the medicine cup and swallowed the pill.

"No IV crap?" Sam questioned when he didn't see the syringe that usually held his steroid injection."

"Actually, Dr. Goosby changed the dosage times for your Dexamethasone, so I'll be back to bother you in about three hours. Have you ordered lunch yet?" She eyed the lunch order sitting on Sam's nightstand. Bobby reached over and grabbed the paper.

"Here you go," Bobby handed the menu order to the nurse.

"Thank you Mr. Singer." Bobby nodded. When he had arrived Dean and Sam had told the doctors that Bobby was their uncle, so that there would be no issues with Bobby being with Sam and when Dean wasn't there if need be and Sam were unable to make his own medical decisions Dean felt better knowing Bobby was there just in case something happened. Dean knew without a doubt that Bobby would do anything to keep Sam safe and considered his little brother's well-being important.

Thirty minutes later, Sam had begun to nod off and on as he and Bobby played cards to pass the time until Bobby finally laid down the law and ordered him to close his eyes and sleep. Bobby leafed through a _Guns and Ammo_ magazine he had picked up at a grocery story near the motel before he came to the hospital. He had brought a couple other magazines and a book to pass the time if necessary. He glanced occasionally at Sam and studied his silent features. He gave a cursory glance to the monitors they still had Sam hooked to as part of being observed in the unit. He was still attached to a heart and oxygen monitor. Bobby knew the anti-seizure medication was still causing Sam to sleep a lot as he adjusted to the medication.

**One Hour Later**

Sam stirred and Bobby cast a glance toward the youth and went back to his reading material when the movement settled. Sam sighed and opened his eyes. "How ya feelin'?" Bobby asked with a soft smile.

"How long was I out?" Sam felt groggy and rubbed at his eyes to clear his vision.

"About an hour," Bobby replied as he set his book aside. Sam still rubbed his eyes and blinked trying to clear the blurry vision. He felt an involuntary twitch in his right foot and when it didn't occur again right away he thought nothing of it.

"Bobby could you get me a wet wash cloth or something," Sam scooted up in his bed. "I got sleep or somethin' in my eyes."

"Sure thing," Bobby stood and went to the small bathroom area in the distant corner of the room. He pushed aside the privacy curtain and walked toward the bathroom. Sam's right foot twitched again and he frowned as it continued to twitch at the ankle causing his foot to jerk and move on its own accord.

"Ah, Bobby," Sam started his voice hesitant. He squinted and rubbed his eyes again.

"Comin'," Bobby replied as he came back with the cloth and pulled the privacy curtain once again. He frowned when he saw Sam's face. "What's wrong?"

"My foot," Sam pointed. Bobby looked at the covers that appeared to be moving in a jerking manner. Bobby reached down and put his hand on top of the covers and the twitching limb trying to still the motion and lend some type of comfort to allay the worry in Sam's young face. "It won't stop twitching and my vision…"

"What about your vision?" Bobby looked at Sam hard. "Sam, what about your vision?"

"It's all blurry Bobby, I can't get it to clear up … dammit why won't it stop," Sam moved his leg and slapped at his calf hoping it would stop the uncontrolled twitching in his foot.

"I'm getting' the doc right now," Bobby's voice was all authority and if Sam didn't know better very parental and held that distinctive protective tone he knew so well from his big brother and even his father sometimes over the years before he died. He pushed the call button not wanting to leave Sam to find help. "I gotta call Dean, too."

"No," Sam's voice was sharp. "Let him relax Bobby this isn't a big deal, okay?"

"Not a big deal?" Bobby's face took on an incredulous look at Sam's comment. "Sam I have to call him and tell him what's happening."

"There's nothing to tell him right now, so just let him stay at the motel and relax. You can call him if there is something to this … it's probably nothing," Sam tried to assure both Bobby and himself.

"Did you need something Sam?" Linda came around the curtain.

"We need Dr. Lowe or Dr. Goosby," Bobby pointed at Sam's twitching right foot. Linda saw the covers moving. "His foot won't stop twitching and his vision is blurry and isn't clearing."

"When did this start?"

"Just a couple minutes ago after he woke up," Bobby answered.

"I'll page Dr. Lowe," Linda smiled and left quickly.

**One Hour Later, MRI waiting Room**

Bobby looked at his watch and signed while he ran a hand over his face. He felt bad that he hadn't called Dean yet and knew he'd probably have to endure the wrath of Dean Winchester when he heard of this whole new development.

"Mr. Singer?" Dr. Lowe walked into the room. Bobby stood up.

"How is he? How's Sam?"

"Well, he's headed back up to Neurology. The MRI showed a marked increase in perilesional edema around the majority of his lesion areas and a bit more edema was happening that surrounds the lesion located in his left occipital region." Bobby quirked an eyebrow at the doctor and the physician smiled. "Sorry, I mean his MRI shows a lot more brain swelling and some of it is more pronounced in the occipital region," the doctor pointed to his own head to show Bobby. "This increase in edema or swelling if you will is the cause for the twitching and I believe is the culprit for the blurry vision. I went ahead and upped his IV dosage of dexamethasone and once the increased dosage was administered I saw an improvement with the twitching and within the next few hours there should be some relief for the blurry vision."

"So, he's okay?"

"There doesn't seem to be any other symptoms that he's mentioning and he hasn't had anymore seizures since his last episode, so we'll play it by ear. I informed Dr. Goosby of the MRI results and he agreed with my course of action to increase his dosage of dexamethasone." Bobby nodded.

"Thank you … can I go see him now?"

"Yes, of course … I'm sure they have him settled back in his room by now." Bobby nodded and left.

**Ten Minutes Later, Sam's Room, Neurology Unit**

"Sam?" Bobby slide in behind the privacy curtain and Sam's eyes were closed. Bobby looked at the young man as he blinked and opened his eyes.

"Hey Bobby," Sam offered a small lopsided grin and Bobby couldn't help but remember a young six year old Sam with the same smile when John would bring his boys with him to his salvage yard when they were little.

"Hey yourself," Bobby quipped. "So, how about we call your brother now, okay?" Sam shook his head.

"No reason to Bobby. Let him relax for a while he deserves it."

"You know he wants to be here and he should know about the latest scans. The doc said you've got more swelling going on."

"I know but I'm okay," Sam hedged. "Look Dean will be back tonight, although I don't get why you both can't just stay at the motel."

"Now come on Sam you know your brother isn't going to stay with me and leave you alone in the hospital. He leaves you by yourself once and you know what happened."

"My freak out was a fluke Bobby because of the meds, I'm fine now," Sam tried to make his voice sound strong and not like a sick child.

"Are you forgetting the seizure?" Bobby narrowed his eyes at the young Winchester. Sam rolled his eyes.

"I'm fine now."

"Really? So, that whole twitching thing and blurry vision was nothin' as you put it…"

"Geez, Bobby you're a hard ass," Sam commented with no malice behind the words and Bobby couldn't help but chuckle.

**Two Hours Later, Sam's Room**

Bobby looked at his watch and knew Dean would be showing up in another couple hours to relieve him for the night. He had tried to convince Dean to take a night off that he'd be happy to stay with Sam, but Dean wouldn't have it, so he had stopped pressing. Sam had fallen asleep a little over an hour ago and he'd pulled out his copy of Dante's _Inferno_ to read and couldn't help the smile that crept across his face at Sam's earlier reaction to seeing the book.

"_The Inferno, Bobby? I should tell Dean," Sam laughed. "You'd never live it down…and he calls me a geek."_

"_This is study material," Bobby countered. Sam laughed light heartedly. "Your brother wouldn't know a good book if it hit him upside the head," Bobby continued his defense in frustration. Sam really laughed then and it made Bobby feel good to see the kid smile and laugh. "What?"_

"_It's just I'm sure a few good books have hit him upside the head more than once, especially when we had to clean that head librarian spirit out of that old library in Massachusetts way back when with Dad. I remember he got knocked out cold by 'Paradise Lost,'" Sam smiled. Bobby couldn't help but chuckle._

"_Well, Dante and Milton are classics …I mean look at this … a journey through Hell made poetic." Bobby's smile drifted away when he saw the sad distant look come across Sam's eyes and the moisture gather in them … liquid puppy dog and his heart shattered. He reached a hand out and squeezed Sam's arm. "We'll find a way Sam, I mean there has to be, right?" Sam's eyes shifted to the older man he'd known for so long._

"_What if we can't Bobby, what if I can't?" Sam's voice choked. "I can't lose him Bobby," a tear cascaded down Sam's pale cheek. "Seven months and that's it."_

"_It's gonna be okay Sam," Bobby tried to sound confident. Sam looked at him._

"_You don't believe that Bobby, so don't start lying to me now," Sam chastised the older man._

"_All right," he countered. "I don't know if it's going to be okay Sam, but I do know that I won't stop looking for a way to end this deal where you and Dean are both okay and alive … I won't stop until we're burying your brother." Bobby saw a visible tremble work through Sam as he said the word 'burying' to Sam. "You're strong enough to handle this Sam," Bobby encouraged and tried to convince himself. "No matter what happens and you're not alone, I promise." Sam shook his head._

"_I'm not as strong as Dean would like to believe Bobby and it won't be okay if Dean dies and goes to Hell for me, it will never be okay and I won't be okay. I can't lose my brother Bobby." The older man had simply offered a solemn nod and shortly after Sam had drifted off in a fitful sleep until complete oblivion dragged him under into a deep sleep._

Sam shifted and woke up and Bobby looked up from his book. Sam looked at him and then around his area. The pale blue privacy curtain was pulled and blocked the view of the other occupants in the room. Bobby studied Sam's eyes as they looked around idly and then settled back on him. He didn't miss the obvious look of confusion in them and waited for Sam to speak.

"Bobby?" the tone held question and Bobby frowned ever so slightly.

"Yeah, Sam?" He leaned forward. "You have a good nap?"

"Nap?" Sam scooted up in his bed and took in the heart monitor and pulse-ox clip on his finger, the IV line coming from his arm. "What the hell is this crap? What's going on? Where's Dean?" the last part held no anger only fear. "Bobby where's Dean?"

"The motel," Bobby answered. "You remember … you're in the hospital. You've got an infection in your head. You're just a little confused from your nap," he encouraged. "Dean will be here in a couple hours or so."

"This is wrong, I don't …" the heart monitor picked up on Sam's agitated state as it beeped out a staccato rhythm.

"Sam calm down okay, kiddo, you're okay," Bobby felt cold fear in his gut at Sam's obvious confusion. He stood up and put a hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Where am I? Infection? I … I…" Sam started to try and grab at his IV line and Bobby took evasive actions. He deflected Sam's hand away and grabbed onto the boy's shoulders.

"Sam listen to me you're okay," he urged. "You're okay."

"No! I'm not supposed to be here. Why am I here?"

"Somebody help! I need help in here," Bobby was yelling and trying to press the call button all the while trying to prevent Sam from pulling his IV out. Bobby heard footfalls in the hallway and the curtain was yanked aside. "He's confused and fighting me," Bobby blurted. "He doesn't know why he's here. I want to know what the hell is going on!" he demanded.

"Mr. Singer," Dr. Lowe began. "Let me exam him and I'll…"

"Who the hell are you?" Sam shouted cutting off the doctor's reply to Bobby. "I don't know how I got here." Sam struggled under Bobby's hands.

"Sam!" Bobby shouted at the boy. "You calm down now!" his voice boomed the command and Sam stilled suddenly and looked wide-eyed at the man he'd known since he was six. Bobby hated yelling at Sam, he knew he was confused and scared, but it had to be done. "What's going on?" he looked at the doctor with a glare. "Is it the steroids again?"

"I don't think so …" the doctor began. "I need to run some tests and another MRI." Bobby's eyes shifted suddenly from the doctor back to Sam as he felt the boy tense in his hands as if ever muscle had suddenly been commanded to action. Bobby watched in horror as Sam's eyes rolled back into his head and he began seizing. The world fell apart then and Bobby felt himself physically shoved to the background just beyond the medical frenzy happening around Sam's bed. It seemed as if everything happened in slow motion, a red cart was hustled into the room, syringes were depressing and the violent jerking continued, more syringes depressed, a nurse was sliding a thin tube into the corner of Sam's mouth suctioning fluids. The jerking stopped, _that's good, right?_ Bobby asked himself in his mind … now there was a mask being held over Sam's face as a blue bag was squeezed rhythmically; he watched Sam rolled onto his side as a board was slid under him, _what's happening? _His mind couldn't play catch up. The seizure was over, so it was okay now, right? The doctor's barking orders but Bobby can't hear anything, he feels like he's in a silent movie and silent horror movie, _did they make those?_ The doctors compressing Sam's chest and Bobby feels his gut twist as he watches Sam's ribs compress inward under the force of the doctor's hands.

There are more orders being barked, more syringes being depressed, now they're placing red plastic looking pads on Sam's chest and now he's arching up from the bed. There's a clunk noise happening whenever Sam's chest arches, Bobby wonders why that seems to be the only noise he hears and _what's that wailing noise?_ Bobby's eyes look at Sam's heart monitor and he doesn't see comforting arches that tell him there is life and he feels cold inside. He watches more compressions, more shocks, more syringes. He watches in horror as a medieval looking metal device is inserted into Sam's mouth and a plastic tube is threaded passed it and soon it is attached to that blue bag he remembers from earlier. The action slows suddenly and Bobby feels like he missed a scene or two from the intermission of this horror movie. He watches Sam lifted and moved onto gurney and whisked away.

"Mr. Singer?" the voice breaks through the terrible silence and he looks into Linda's eyes, Sam's nurse. His eyes shift back to the now empty bed. "Sam's being taken to MRI and then the ICU," her mouth is moving and he just stares knowing she's speaking but the rushing sound in his ears is deafening as he focuses on her mouth.

"What?" he manages to speak and his mind engages violently with the real world once again. "Sam?" his voice is both protective and afraid.

"They're taking him to MRI and then ICU," Linda repeats as she recognizes a shell-shocked family member when she sees one. She places a comforting hand on Bobby's arm.

"He's alive?" Bobby knows that logically Sam must be since they don't make a habit of taking the dead to ICU but he has to hear the words to believe it because he remembers everything now and needs to know.

"Yes, they were able to get his pulse back, but they are very concerned about the swelling, so they need to take him for a scan and they are preparing for him in the ICU."

Bobby can only nod numbly at the nurse and for the first time he actually notices her scrub top, it's all primary colors and happy faces and little messages written in speech bubbles 'Have a great day,' 'smile it increases your face value,' and 'Don't Worry, Be Happy,' and he thinks he'll throw up but he swallows it back down.

"I'll take you to the ICU waiting room and you can wait there," she urges him forward and he remembers he can move, _one foot in front of the other_, he reminds himself silently. "The doctors will be in to see you as soon as they know something," she replies. "Do you need to call Dean? Sam's brother should be notified."

_Oh, sweet Jesus, Dean … I have to call him …_his mind reels at the thought but he knows it needs to be done. "I'll call him," Bobby answers in a quiet monotone response and Linda nods.

**Ten Minutes Later, in a hallway outside the ICU Waiting Room**

Bobby holds his cell phone to his ear as the he listens to the other line ring, once, twice and then there is the voice he both expected and dreaded … Dean.

"Hey, Bobby," Dean answers easily. "Sammy driving you nuts," he speaks easily because he doesn't know and Bobby in that moment hates that he has to say the words to shatter Dean's world. "I'm out the door in just a minute, okay? Bobby?" Now, there is the tone, Bobby hears it, recognizes it and knows that Dean's suspects. "Bobby what's wrong?" his tone is demanding but Bobby can hear the panic underneath. He takes a breath and destroys Dean's world with two words.

"It's Sam."

**To Be Continued**

I hope you enjoyed the chapter. My schedule has been playing heck with my writing time the last few days, so hopefully I can get a new chapter posted by next weekend or sooner if time permits. I'm trying to not keep you waiting very long between posts and I'm aiming to keep to my promised posting times which I've managed to do, thus far.

Thanks for reading and I hope you're still enjoying the story!


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**NOTE TO READERS: **Thank you for the reviews! I'm glad you've been enjoying the story. This chapter is around 8 pages long. I managed to get it done before the weekend and in time for the much awaited Christmas episode on tonight. I hope you enjoy this update. Happy Reading!

**Stay**

**Chapter Five**

By Dawn Nyberg

"_In the midst of life we are in death" _The Book of Common Prayer, _The Burial of the Dead, First Anthem_

**Hospital Main Lobby, 10 minutes later**

Bobby sat in a chair along the wall watching the main entrance knowing Dean would be arriving soon. Things had gone to hell in a hand basket after he finished his brief phone conversation with Dean. He had been approached with an urgent looking Dr. Lowe carrying a clipboard with a surgical consent form. An involuntary chill worked its way through the older man at the memory.

"_Mr. Singer, I need to obtain surgical consent for Sam. Dr. Goosby needs to operate immediately. You're Sam's uncle and Dean isn't available, so you're able to sign."_

"_What's wrong with Sam?" Bobby's voice shook and he hated that it made him sound a little meek but he this was Sam they were talking about. "You're talkin' brain surgery?"_

"_Yes, Sam is immediate need of surgery. The MRI indicated that the sudden increase in pressure created by the brain swelling has caused a secondary problem that isn't related to Sam's cysticercosis but to a vascular bundle in Sam's brain that had a weak vessel probably from birth, however the swelling and increased pressure has caused it to hemorrhage."_

"_He's bleeding in his brain?" Bobby knew what a hemorrhage meant._

"_Yes, Sam has suffered what we call an ICH or intracranial hemorrhage. Mr. Singer, Sam is precariously on the edge here. We could lose him if you don't sign these papers." _

"_Dean's on his way, maybe…"_

"_No maybes Mr. Singer … Sam needs this surgery now. They are prepping him for surgery at this moment, please sign, we're losing precious time." Bobby took the extended clipboard and his hand shook slightly as he signed the form. He handed it back to the doctor. "Once Dean arrives, please bring him to the surgical waiting room on the second floor and I'll give you updates there as the surgery progresses. Dr. Goosby is one of our best neurosurgeons … your nephew is in good hands." The doctor was gone so quickly that Bobby's almost felt like it had all been some bad dream and he'd wake up in a minute to find out he'd drifted off next to Sam's bed and all was well, but reality kicked him in the ass pretty quick and he headed down to the main lobby with a heavy heart to wait for Dean._

Bobby saw Dean as he jogged through the doors slowing his pace to long strides. "Dean," the older hunter called out as he stood catching his attention. Dean's eyes were intense and Bobby didn't miss the panic in them. Dean Winchester was on the razor's edge and that wasn't a good thing … a worried, overwrought and protective Winchester was a force to be reckoned with like an Atlantic hurricane … it was only meant to be endured, survived until the storm had passed.

"Bobby? What's happening? Where's Sam?" Bobby had been able to relate some details to Dean about the swelling and the seizure in their phone conversation before Dean merely wanted to get to the hospital and stop wasting time on the phone. He had chosen to leave out the fact that Sam's heart had stopped. That wasn't news to tell on the phone. "Bobby?" Dean's eyes were panicked at the older man's silence.

"Surgery," Bobby answered with a solemn face.

"Shit," Dean hissed. "What the hell happened? I know what you told me, but …"

"There was a weak vessel in his head," Bobby began as he pulled Dean aside. "The doc thinks it's been there since Sam was a baby. The up and down swelling and pressure … it caused it to rupture Dean," Bobby's eyes dropped from the young man's face he knew so well, unable to face the devastation evident in them.

"Ruptured? You mean he's bleeding in his brain?"

"Yeah, and Dr. Goosby is operating right now. I had to sign the consent …"

"Yeah … yeah, it's okay Bobby you did the right thing," he assured. "I wasn't here to do it, I should have been, dammit!" he barked. "Where do we go? I gotta be there the minute there is news. Dammit!" Dean berated himself.

"Easy Dean," Bobby tried to stop Dean blaming himself, although he knew Dean would still carry the weight of not being here when it happened. "Dr. Lowe said we should wait in the second floor surgical waiting room … he'll bring updates when he has any."

**Thirty Minutes Later, Surgical Waiting Room**

The room was a medium blue and the walls were covered with medical posters advocating patient privacy rights, the hospital mission statement was on another wall, and two large oil paintings of nature scenes on another. There was a desk with a phone on it for the surgical liaison that normally relays news to waiting family members during the day, but it was evening now and only emergency surgeries were being performed. The twenty chair room was empty except for two hunched figures waiting in silence for news on Sam.

"What I don't get," Dean began suddenly shifting his eyes toward Bobby breaking the tense quiet. "Wasn't there some sign? I mean, what the hell, Sam just went from zero to hundred in a minute. I mean even when he freaked out on the steroids he freaked out before he had the seizure, and at the diner he had a headache; it's just there had to be something, right?" Bobby took a steadying breath and met Dean's eyes squarely.

"There was." Dean looked at Bobby hard for a moment.

"There was what?"

"Signs." Bobby started. He was glad the room was empty while he delivered the truth to Dean. "There were signs earlier before the seizure about an hour before."

"What the hell are you talkin' about? What happened? Why didn't you call me?"

"Sam asked me not to, said it was nothing…"

"Sonofabitch," Dean hissed and stood up abruptly and faced Bobby. "You had no right! He's my brother, my family, you had no damn right!"

"Dean, I'm sorry," Bobby felt awful. "Sam practically begged me not to, said it was nothing and it was okay…"

"You listened to Sam?!" Dean's face was incredulous. "He'd say anything to keep me at that fucking motel and you listened to him … damn you!"

"Dean…"

"No, I'm not listening to one more damn reason or excuse. You should have called me the minute something was happening. What happened?" Dean's tone was demanding and it brooked no hesitation on Bobby's part to answer.

"His right foot was twitching and his vision was blurry. They did another MRI and said the swelling was a little worse, so they increased his meds for the swelling, but…"

"But what?!" Dean shouted.

"He took a nap and when he woke up he was confused … didn't know why he was here or what happened," Bobby's face looked tormented.

"Shit," Dean paced back and forth. "What else?"

"Then the seizure hit … his … he…" Bobby felt the bile rise in his throat at having to say the next words Dean.

"He what?!" Dean's eyes blazed at Bobby.

"Went into cardiac arrest," Bobby said quietly and looked away from Dean quickly. The sound and the fury that was Dean Winchester suddenly blew out quickly like a birthday candle and he sat heavily back down into his chair, numb and he felt a cold heaviness settle in his gut and he shivered against it. He turned to Bobby, his eyes stricken.

"Sammy's heart stopped," Dean's voice sounded small and afraid and suddenly Bobby saw the young boy that used to watch him make bullets for certain hunts and he had to resist the urge to pull Dean into a hug.

**Forty Minutes Later, Surgical Waiting Room**

Dean had been silent since the revelation that his brother's heart had stopped. He looked at his watch constantly and at the clock on the wall making sure his watch wasn't wrong. He and Bobby sat in tense silence side by side. The door opened and Dean stood immediately.

"Doc," Dean spoke hurriedly. "Is Sam okay?" The doctor's face was unreadable and Dean hated the physician poker face. "How's Sam? The surgery over?" he pressed further.

"No, the surgery is still going on." The doctor replied. "Let's have a seat," Dr. Lowe motioned for both Dean and Bobby to resume there former seats. He grabbed a nearby chair and pulled it so that he sat in front of both men. Dean was coming out of his skin waiting for the doctor to speak and Bobby felt a small tremor work its way through him. "Sam's hanging in there. His vitals have been touch and go here and there during the surgery, but Dr. Goosby is still operating."

"That's not tellin' me much doc," Dean glared. "Sam's holding his own … what the hell does that mean?"

"Dean," Bobby attempted to reign in Dean's anger spurred on by worry. Dean shot a hot look at the older man.

"Don't…" the word was thick and angry and Bobby knew better than to push. Dean turned his attention back to the Dr. Lowe. "I heard he was bleeding in brain and that there was more swelling."

"Yes, Dr. Goosby is tying off the vessel and examining the vascular bundle for any other problems and he has all ready evacuated the blood. Their was a fear that Sam's brain had shifted due to the copious amount of blood from the hemorrhage coupled with the all ready added pressure and swelling from the cyst lesions, but the MRI proved that worry unfounded."

"So, that's good, right?"

"Yes."

"But, Sam's heart stopped? What happened?"

"The cardiac arrest could have been triggered by a number of reasons, but the important thing is we were able to reestablish a heartbeat. Dean, Sam's condition is critical."

"So, the doc's digging around in my brother's head … did they shave his head?" Dean knew it was a stupid question, after all, his brother was fighting for his life and here he was asking if his brother was going to have any hair … but Sammy just wasn't Sammy without that mop of chestnut hair and his little brother was so partial to it … _hair grows back_ he thought to himself. _Sam only has this life left, no more deals to save him_, Dean's mind reeled.

"A small portion on the side slightly behind his ear that extends slightly back, but it really shouldn't be that noticeable since his hair is long, it may cover some of the surgical area."

"How much longer?" Dean wanted to refocus his thoughts. Sam's hair wasn't important but his baby brother's life was.

"It could be a while," the doctor answered. "I should get back and check in, so I can give you more news in a bit."

"Doc…" Dean began with a tentative voice. "Once his head fixed … he'll be okay, right? All this swelling and the hemorrhage … his brain is okay isn't?"

"We won't be able to answer that question until he wakes up Dean. Dr. Goosby is repairing what needs to be repaired but ultimately we're on Sam's time table and his body's ability to bounce back."

"Sam's a fighter," Dean urged. The doctor nodded.

"I'll be back when I have some solid surgery progress updates, okay?"

Dean nodded stiffly and when he watched the doctor leave he slouched back into his chair feeling wrung out.

**Two Hours Later, the Surgical Waiting Room**

Dean and Bobby sat in silence with the occasional pacing from either of them.

"What's takin' so damn long?" Dean hissed as he looked at the clock. "There should have been some news by now." Dean fell quiet again. Bobby knew Dean wasn't looking for him to respond because the young man wanted nothing to do with him and was beyond pissed with him at the moment and rightfully so, he knew, but he had to say something.

"Sam's going to pull through this Dean," Bobby decided to break the tense silence. Dean shifted his eyes toward the older man.

"You don't know," his voice sounded harsh. "I could have been here Bobby before any of this shit happened and you stole that from me. It wasn't your call," Dean ground out.

"I know, I'm sorry," Bobby lamented with a sincere voice. "It's just Sam … he used that lopsided smile of his and those eyes … I've been a sucker for them since he was a little squirt following you around the salvage yard like you were Moses leadin' the his people to the Promised Land." Dean chuckled lightly at that image because it was truth and he hadn't thought of that in a long time.

"God, I haven't thought of that in years," Dean allowed this moment of warm memories to surround him and give him a minute of respite. His mind went to a warm memory of a six year old Sammy.

"_Dean where you going?" Sammy followed closely behind his big brother._

"_Just out in the car yard Sammy with Uncle Bobby, okay? You don't have to follow me everywhere," he admonished with a hint of frustration. "You stay here and watch cartoons, look…" Dean pointed to the TV in the far room as it played Thundercats. "See the Thundercats are on you love them."_

"_Want to go with you…" Sam reached up and latched onto Dean's black t-shirt with one small hand. "Don't you want me?" Sam looked up at his big brother with those wide, liquid filled puppy eyes and he relented. Sammy and those puppy eyes he suspected would be a lifetime weakness for him to resist … shit who was he kidding, resist? He's never been able to resist those eyes and he never would. Dean reached down and pushed the chestnut bangs away from his little brother's forehead as the small face peered up at him._

"_Okay, Sammy, you win," Dean offered a small smile. Sam's face broke into a bright grin as he looked up at his big brother. "Come on," Dean encouraged. Sam suddenly hugged his brother around his hips … the highest he could reach. Dean patted his head and laughed. _

"_No chick flick moments Sammy," Dean replied but his voice was tender. Sam giggled and only squeezed harder._

"_Love you Dean … you're the best big brother in the whole world." Sam mumbled into his brother's right hip as he squeezed once more. Dean bent over slightly and wrapped his arms around his little brother's small frame and whispered into his young sibling's vanilla scented mop of hair._

"_You're not such a bad little brother either, kiddo. Okay, maybe one chick flick moment a day, all right?" Dean chuckled. "Come on before Uncle Bobby thinks we ditched him."_ Dean's mind snapped back to the present as the door to the waiting room opened once again to reveal both Dr. Lowe and Dr. Goosby. Both Dean and Bobby stood.

"Dean," Dr. Lowe began. "I wanted to apologize for not coming back, but Dr. Goosby allowed me to assist at one point and we just had to keep going…"

"The surgery's over," Dean pushed. "Sammy's okay?"

"I was able to evacuate the blood and tie off the blown vessel and I didn't see any other indications of potential other vascular ruptures in that area. We pulled him off of the anti-parasitic treatment and steroids a few hours ago, so we are starting to see a lessening in the edema. I have started him on an IV medication to assist in further decreasing the edema both from the infection and the surgery. The medication is also designed to help prevent further swelling, too."

"So, you're sayin' he has some more swelling because of the surgery?"

"Not much, but the procedure did cause a little additional edema. Sam will be transferred from recovery in another hour and will be in the ICU."

"So, he's okay," Dean looked at both doctors and there was something about their body language that told him the other show hadn't fallen yet. "What's wrong?"

"Dean," Dr. Lowe began. "I told you we're going to be on Sam's timetable, so we'll have to wait and see."

"What is it? There's something you're not saying…"

Dr. Lowe looked at Dr. Goosby and the neurologist nodded and Dr. Lowe looked back at both men standing in front of him, both clearly hanging on by a thread. "Dean, the preliminary neurological tests in the recovery room indicate that …"

"Just say it!" Dean barked. "What's wrong with my brother?"

"I'm sorry," Dr. Lowe replied. "Sam has slipped into a coma."

**To Be Continued**

Well, I hope you liked that chapter. I appreciate all of the reviews and PM's I've been receiving. I'll try to update by next weekend, Saturday or Sunday, and as always, sooner if possible. Thanks for Reading!!


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**NOTE TO READERS: **This chapter is 9 pages long. I was able to get this chapter done before the weekend, so I'm posting early. Thanks as always for the reviews! I'm pleased that so many of you are enjoying the story. Boy, I thought this was going to be maybe four or five chapters and that would be it, alas it seems this fic just keeps going and going. I will try to post again on either December 29 or 30, but the holidays are making things crazy, but as always if possible I'll post earlier, we'll see. I hope you enjoy the new chapter. Happy Reading!

**Stay**

**Chapter Six**

By Dawn Nyberg

"_We have left undone those things which we ought to have done; And we have done those things which we ought not to have done…" _The Book of Common Prayer, _Morning Prayer, General Confession_

**Later in the ICU Waiting Room**

"How much damn longer," Dean grumbled as he looked at his watch for the hundredth time. Sam had been transferred over two hours ago to the ICU after the recovery room and Dean still hadn't been let into the unit to see his little brother. His mind was still reeling over Dr. Lowe's words that Sam had slipped into a coma, but Sam would wake up because there was no other alternative that Dean was willing to accept.

"Beth said she'd come out the minute you could see him, Dean," Bobby tried to assure. He knew he was still walking on thin ice with the oldest Winchester sibling, but he had to try and be there for him as much as he was willing to let him. Dean looked at him for a hard moment. He wanted to bristle at the older man, but in truth it helped having someone else here who cared for Sammy, too and would do whatever needed to be done to make him better.

"How'd this get so fucked?" Dean finally replied as he stared at the floor with anguish in his eyes. "I mean … this damn tapeworm cyst infection it sounded like any easy fix, ya know? The doc didn't make a big deal out of it. I just thought Sam would be here a week tops, maybe, and we'd get him all situated, the seizures under control and he'd be better in a couple months. He was supposed to respond to the medication and the seizure meds … this shit wasn't supposed to be happening. How'd we get from an infection they only wanted to keep him admitted for a week to brain surgery because he had a hemorrhage?" Dean ran a frustrated hand across his eyes.

"When has Sam ever done anything by the book Dean?" Bobby commented easily. "That kid brother of yours has always been slightly contrary by nature since he was little. I'd tell him not to climb up on the stacked cars in salvage yard, he'd climb the cars, you and me both told him he wasn't ready to shoot a shotgun yet, he goes and shoots the gun and the kick-back tossed the kid three feet and he needed five stitches in the back of his head, you remember that? It scared the shit out of me when he hit the ground and didn't move right away. I swear he gave me about ten gray hairs that day and damn near gave me a heart attack, especially knowing your daddy left me in charge." Dean managed a quiet chuckle at the memory.

"Yeah, I remember that day," Dean commented as he tried to ignore his watch. "Man, it seemed when he hit eight or nine he just wanted to grow up so quick and I just wanted him to be a kid for a while longer, ya know? I never wanted him hunting, but it was unavoidable," Dean lamented. "I still have flashbacks about Cold Oak, Bobby…" Dean spoke softly and his voice shook. Bobby reached a hand over and grasped Dean's right forearm and squeezed.

"I know … me too," he commented with a gruff emotion filled voice. Both men sat there in a moment of silence as they fought to clear their minds of that awful image, that horrible night.

"Dean?" Bethany's voice spoke softly from the doorway. Dean's head shot up followed by Bobby.

"I can see him, I can see Sam now," Dean surged forward from his seat.

"We have everything set-up now and he's settled. I need to tell you what to expect," she began with a gentle smile. Dean nodded. "He's going to seem a little swollen to you, but he was given a lot of fluids during the surgery and in a couple days or so he'll look normal again. His head is bandaged. He's breathing on his own, but Dr. Lowe and Dr. Goosy said he needs to be on a ventilator because of the coma and his gag reflex isn't responding right now and they need to protect his airway." Dean felt numb but he nodded he understood. "Dr. Lowe had a feeling you wouldn't want to leave, so he gave permission that one person can stay with Sam at all times except during exams, testing or rounds. He also said that both you and Mr. Singer can see him together for 10 minutes and then only one person at a time after that, okay?" Dean shifted his eyes from her and looked at Bobby and saw the hope in the older man's eyes that he'd let him see Sam. He nodded at Bobby for a moment and then looked back to Beth.

"There's IV's, monitors and machines, Dean and I'll be in every hour or so to check vitals and other things, so there's going to be a lot of disturbances."

"I understand," Dean answered. "I just want to see my brother."

"Okay, I'll take you to him," she turned to go and saw that Bobby hung back a second. "Are you coming Mr. Singer?" Bobby wanted to make sure he hadn't misread Dean's nod. Dean looked at him.

"Come on Bobby, the doc said you could see him too," he motioned for the older man to come. "Anyway, Sammy would want you there." Bobby felt his throat constrict with emotion and he could only offer up a quick nod before he found his voice.

"Dean, I think you should see him first," Bobby's voice shook slightly despite his best effort to reign in his emotions. "I'll wait here until Beth comes and gets me, okay?" Dean offered a small smile and nodded.

"Thanks Bobby."

**Moments Later, Outside Sam's ICU Room**

"Go ahead inside Dean," Beth urged. Dean was standing in front of the glass partition window to his little brother's room and the blinds were closed and he wished he had even a glimpse before going in. "Hit the call button for me when you're ready for me to bring your uncle in for his ten minutes." Dean nodded. He took a deep breath and stepped into the doorway. He sucked in a small breath and chewed his bottom lip trying desperately to keep his emotions in check. Sam was lying on his back with the head of the bed slightly elevated. The safety bed side rails were up and Dean stared from the doorway at his sibling. Sam looked so small to him, fragile and he felt a tremor work its way down his spine. Sam was pale and unmoving. The ventilator went about its business and Dean found himself focusing on its rhythmic whoosh and click. He walked forward and with five long strides he was at his brother's side. He reached down and cupped a cool cheek. The white bandaging around his brother's head was thick but tufts of chestnut brown stuck out in a few places.

"Hey Sammy," his voice was soft and held a level of gentleness he reserved only for his little brother. "Look what you've gotten yourself into, huh?" Dean walked around to the other side of the bed and lowered the railing as he sat down heavily into a chair. "The doc says you're taking a nap kiddo, but I think you need to wake up, okay? Dean stroked his brother's left arm from the crook of his arm to the palm of his left hand. He was careful to avoid any IV tubing. He wished he could ignore the breathing tube and the pale blue plastic holder that held the tubing in place over Sam's mouth. The plastic holder covered his brother's mouth completely and was secured in place. "So, what's with this having Bobby keep shit from me, huh? You don't get to make those kinda calls, you got it?" Dean chastised with no anger in his voice. "Sammy?" Dean's voice choked. He stared at his brother's slightly puffy features and took some solace in the fact that Beth had said the swelling would go away over the next day or so as Sam eliminated the fluids he received in surgery. "You don't look that bad Sammy," Dean offered. "Kinda like you did when you went through your little twelve year-old pudgy phase, remember that?" Dean chuckled quietly. It had only lasted that one year and when Sam had hit thirteen he was suddenly long and lean and all arms and legs.

Dean sat with Sam for a long while just watching his chest rise and fall and listened to the steady beeping of the heart monitor. "Bobby's waitin' to see you too Sammy," Dean spoke softly. "That little stunt you pulled with keepin' secrets had me pretty pissed at him, and you too," Dean added softly. "But, he cares about you and I know you'd want him here and…" Dean stopped for a second as he pushed a stray tear from his cheek. He could try as much as he wanted, but his body was betraying him as his emotions were slowly breaking down the façade that is Dean Winchester. He took a breath and tried to continue, "and … I need him here too." Dean admitted in a quiet voice. "Sam? Can you hear me? Squeeze my hand if you hear me," Dean encouraged as he held his brother's hand. There was no movement. "Come on Sammy, we can surprise Bobby, open your eyes." Sam's body remained still and his hand unmoving in his big brother's. "Okay, we'll do it your way for now," he spoke softly as he touched his brother's face and then pressed the call button for Beth.

"Yes, Dean?"

"Could you get Bobby now?"

"Sure thing." Beth left the room and Dean turned his attention back to his brother. "Mr. Singer," Beth called out as she walked into the ICU waiting room. Bobby stood up.

"I can go in now?"

"Yes, Dean asked me to come get you." She showed him to Sam's room. "I'll be back in ten minutes or so," she winked at the older man and he knew she'd probably let him have a few extra minutes with Sam.

"Thank you," he offered her a smile in return for her kindness. He stood at Sam's doorway and could see Dean intently watching his sibling. He knocked softly on the side of the doorway. Dean looked up.

"Come on in Bobby," Dean kept his voice low. "Hey, Sammy," Dean looked at his brother and squeezed his hand. "Bobby's here," he hoped for some change but nothing happened. Bobby approached the bed and tried desperately not to show how overwhelmed he was at the site of the young man.

"Hey there kiddo," his voice was a mixture of gruff emotion. He reached down and ran the back of his hand across Sam's cheek avoiding the breathing tube and let his hand rest on Sam's shoulder. "Sam? It's Bobby," he kept his voice low. "How about you wake up now," he encouraged in a light voice. He shifted his eyes to Dean and could see that the eldest Winchester sibling was barely hanging on and that his emotions were waging a war inside him. "Dean, he's gonna pull through this I just know it," he said with a firm voice. "We just have to give him time. Sam will get through this, I know it." Dean needed to believe Bobby's words.

"You really believe that?"

"Yes, I do," he affirmed.

"Bobby, I have nothin' else to give for him, no more deals can fix this," Dean stammered as his eyes fixed on his brother.

"Sam would kick your ass from here to hell himself if you tried to make some kind of other deal," he paused a moment. "But, he'd have to get in line behind me because I would throttle you if you tried to revise your damn deal."

"But…"

"No buts, dammit!" Bobby snapped softly keeping his voice low in the ICU room.

"Do you think this is some kind of punishment, a warning because I haven't forced Sam to stop looking for a way to get me out of the deal? This could be a warning…"

"Dean," Bobby began. "This isn't a warning; it's just plain old-fashioned bad luck or a fluke. It was contaminated pork Dean, you can't control everything and as much as you want to believe you can keep Sam safe from everything, you can't son. I know you want too but it is what it is … a medical problem and not a supernatural one, all right?" Dean didn't trust his voice, so he simply nodded.

"The doc said it was a good thing about finding that weak vessel," Dean replied absently his eyes not leaving his brother as he continued to stroke the inside of his little brother's hand. "It just about killed him, but the doc said had it happened out on some back road or something that Sammy could have … that he would have probably…"

"He's alive, Dean," Bobby spoke with a confident voice, more confidence than he felt, but he had to help Dean and be here for both the boys. "Sam's gonna make it and worrying about these what ifs and should haves is just going to drive you nuts and it won't fix anything, so let it go, you hearin' me?"

"Yes, sir," Dean's voice sounded like a little boy to Bobby and it made his chest ache.

"Good," his voice full of emotion as he briefly met Dean's eyes and offered the young man a genuine smile.

Bobby and Dean both turned their attention back to Sam.

**Five Days Later, ICU**

"Well?" Dean stood outside Sam's room with Bobby and waited for Dr. Lowe and Dr. Goosby to go over Sam's latest brain scans.

"There has been a significant reduction in most of Sam's perilesional edema areas with the dexamethasone IV…"

"In most areas, but not all," Dean pushed.

"There is some remaining edema as you can see", and the doctor showed Dean on the scan the areas of swelling. "But he hasn't had anymore breakthrough seizure activity which is good."

"But, he's still in a coma … it's been five days," Dean lamented.

"I know it's frustrating Dean, but we're just waiting on Sam. "We are supporting his physical and medical needs, but it's up to Sam to come out of this," Dr. Lowe answered honestly.

"Is his brain okay?" Dean finally worked up the nerve to ask point blank and he looked at Dr. Goosby, Sam's neurologist.

"I see no indication of brain damage if that is your concern. There was some blood interruption in the vascular bundle when the weak vessel ruptured, but all of my neurological exams haven't pointed to any permanent brain impairment, but as I always like to tell family members, there can be no definitive answer until the patient is awake and responsive. Sam remains in the coma and until he comes out of it I can only tell you my current findings." Dean nodded.

"So, based on what you've seen so far he looks okay, but we just have to wait for him to wake up to make sure … to confirm," he urged. Dr. Goosby and Dr. Lowe offered small smiles of reassurance as best they could.

"Yes," Dr. Goosby responded.

"Are you keeping Sam in ICU until the coma ends?" Bobby spoke up.

"No," Dr. Goosby answered. "We will be transferring him back to the neurology unit but on our skilled care side because of the ventilator and he'll be in a private room. Once he's off the vent and awake he'll be transferred back to the other side of neurology where he'll most likely share a room like he did before."

"You keep saying he's breathing on his own, triggering the vent, so when are you pulling that damn tube?" Dean asked with impatience.

"Once he has a responsive gag reflex and we're assured that his airway is protected then we'll be able to extubate Sam, but it's unlikely we'll attempt to do that until Sam is at least showing some sign of purposeful movements that indicate he's coming out of the coma and right now he remains unresponsive even to deep pain stimuli." Dean let out a frustrated sigh.

"I know this is rough," Dr. Lowe interjected. "All of us just need to be patient with Sam."

"He is gonna wake up though, right?" The doctors exchanged looks for a moment.

"We feel he will," Dr. Lowe replied. Dean didn't miss the distinct underlying answer, the proverbial other shoe.

"But…" his voice shook and he swallowed to moisten his suddenly dry throat. "You _feel_ he will," Dean stared again. "But, you don't know really do you? You're really saying you think he _probably _will but you really don't know, do you?" His voice was bitter as he finished that statement.

"Dean," Bobby tried to quell the young man's frustration.

"No, Bobby, that's what they're really saying isn't it?" He shot a hot glare at the physicians.

"Dean, comas are unpredictable things … they can last hours, days, weeks, months, even years and yes some people never wake up. Does Dr. Goosby or I think Sam's coma is irreversible, no we don't. Is there a chance this coma could last months, yes, but there is just as much chance that today Sam will start showing purposeful movements and be completely awake in a day or two. There is no way of truly knowing, but we are hopeful." Dean felt sick because despite the positive turn the doctors were trying to put on the coma the fact was that Sam hadn't moved or even so much as twitched in five days and that was the only cold hard fact Dean could latch onto at the moment.

**One Day Later, The Neurology Skilled Care Unit, Sam's Room**

"You've been pretty quiet," Bobby started. "You doin' okay?" He looked at Dean who sat in a chair on the opposite of Sam. Both men sat in chairs that flanked each side of the comatose young Winchester.

"I'm not the one you need to be worrying about Bobby," Dean answered his eyes shifting for a moment to Bobby and back to his brother.

"No, I have to worry about both of you," Bobby chided gently. He knew there was still a little tension over the whole not relating Sam's condition to Dean a few days ago before everything hit the fan, but Dean had a hard head and Bobby would risk pounding some common sense into it if need be.

"It's been six day now Bobby and nothing. He doesn't move. If he just move his fingers or something…"

"I know," Bobby relented. "But, we just gotta wait for Sam, he'll wake up soon."

"You don't know that he will."

"No, but I believe he will," Bobby stated firmly. "And, you have to, too!"

"I'm trying," Dean's voice grabbed as his eyes settled back on the pale and silent features of his little brother. "I want to, but Bobby what if it's months before he wakes up, I won't be … I'll be de…" he found trouble saying what needed to be said. "Jesus, Bobby what if my bill comes due and Sam's still like this, how can I leave him… I don't want him to be alone. There's things I needed to say to him, things he needed to know." Dean's strong features crumbled slightly and he turned his head away in order to try an avoid Bobby seeing his tears. Bobby felt numb and fought desperately to find his voice at the painful revelation. He had tried to put 'the deal' on the back burner to try and not think about it too much while Sam was down, but the truth was he hadn't stopped looking for a way to get Dean out of the deal even since Sam had been in the hospital. It's what Sam would want, no matter what and time simply wasn't on their side. It was seven months away, actually six now, when Bobby thought about it.

"Sam won't be alone Dean," Bobby's voice was strong. "He'll never be alone and we'll both get you out of this shit deal. You'll be around for Sam for a long, long time, and you're going to be able to tell him whatever the hell you want or need too, all right?"

"I know you and Sammy are lookin' Bobby, but I don't want anything putting him in danger, you know the terms…"

"I know the terms were that if _you_ tried to weasel or go back on the deal that deal would be off and Sam would die, but _you_ aren't trying to, we are."

"Splittin' hairs Bobby, I don't want Sammy in danger," Dean was emphatic.

"I hear ya, okay? Sam's gonna be fine and you will be too."

"But … but if I'm not…" Dean's eyes were agonized as he looked longingly at his little brother and stroked his arm.

"If you're not I'll be here for him, I promise. Sam won't be alone." Bobby affirmed.

"He'll try to push you away Bobby," Dean said flatly. "He's gonna be upset and pissed at the world. You gotta keep him with you no matter what. I don't want him hunting alone; I don't want him alone period. He pushes you away you gotta push back, all right."

"I'll be there for him whether he thinks he wants me there or not, okay? But, it's not gonna come to that, it's not," his voice strong and sure. "Sam's gonna be okay and we're going to get you and this deal all worked out." Dean offered the older man a smile, it was a pale semblance of his 1,000 watt Dean Winchester smile, but it was better than nothing. He'd allow himself to believe Bobby words, he had too.

Dean watched his brother for a moment. The bandages weren't as thick now and there was only a light wrapping holding the gauze pad covering where Sam's surgical site was, so he was able to reach up and stroke portions of his brother's chestnut hair. "Hey, Sammy," Dean's voice was gentle. "Bobby and I are both here and were really ready to blow this Popsicle stand, so you have to wake up, okay? Open your eyes Sam," his voice commanded softly. He sighed when nothing happened. "Okay, how about a finger Sammy," Dean suggested. "You feel my hand," he rubbed Sam's open palm. "Just move your fingers Sam, just a little." Nothing happened.

"He's stubborn," Bobby spoke lightly trying to lift the mood. Dean grinned despite his agony.

"Yeah, it's a Winchester thing," he replied quietly and went back to stroking his brother's hand and waiting for Sam to wake up.

**To Be Continued**

Thanks for reading! I'll try to start on the next chapter over the holidays, but free time is pretty limited. I will try to post next weekend (Dec. 29-30) I will make a real effort to get it done. As always, if some free time comes up before next weekend I'll post earlier even if that means a slightly smaller chapter. I hope you're still enjoying the story.

Happy Holidays!!


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**NOTE TO READERS: **This chapter is 11 pages long. I hope you enjoy it. There will probably be a lot of exposition in this chapter and may seem a bit lean on angst, but I hope you still enjoy it nonetheless. Thank you for all of the reviews from the previous chapters, I really do appreciate each and every one of them. Happy Reading!

**Stay**

**Chapter Seven**

By Dawn Nyberg

"_And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain, for the former things are passed away."_ _New Testament, Revelation, ch. 21, v4_

**The Neurology Skilled Care Unit, Sam's Room**

Dean sat in the familiar chair he'd been occupying since his brother was transferred to the skilled care unit from the ICU. It was a private room with a window and Dean was thankful for some daylight, as it made the atmosphere feel less sterile. Sam had been in a coma eight days now and still no changes. The doctors were still giving him good news that the edema had gone down a bit more in the areas where it still remained and his latest post operative scans where Sam's surgery took place all came back without any problems. Dean stared at the stack of magazines and newspapers that Bobby had been bringing in to keep them both occupied while they waited for Sam to wake up.

He scrubbed a hand over his tired eyes and let out a sigh. "You look like you could use a break," Bobby offered lightly from the doorway as he held a coffee carrier in one hand and a tray in the other. "I got us some grub in the cafeteria."

"Thanks Bobby," Dean offered a tired smile. Bobby sat the items down and handed over the coffee to Dean and a breakfast sandwich to him, as well. He studied the tired and drawn features of the young man. He had only been able to get Dean to leave Sam's side long enough to shower each day, brush his teeth and shave as necessary. Sam's room had a small bathroom, so Bobby would sit with Sam while Dean cleaned up, but he needed a real break and the older hunter knew he had to convince Dean of that, but the eldest Winchester sibling had been adamant about not leaving his little brother's side, his argument being that every time he left something bad happened to Sam, so Dean was pretty much dug in and Bobby knew Dean was going to put up a fight.

"So," Bobby sat down in his seat across from Dean. "Like I said, you look like you could use a break there kiddo."

"I'm not leaving Sammy," Dean's voice was blunt.

"Dean," Bobby tried to soften his voice.

"I said no, Bobby," that was Dean's polite way of warning him to back off and leave the subject alone, but Bobby Singer was just as tenacious and hard-headed as any Winchester, so he pushed cautiously a bit more.

"Dean, I've seen three day old corpses that look better than you do right now. What do you think Sam is gonna think when he wakes up and sees you looking like something the cat drug in, huh?"

"I know what you're doing Bobby and it isn't gonna work," Dean looked at the man.

"What?" Bobby feigned innocence. "I'm just saying Sam is gonna be worried about you and the last thing I'm sure he needs is to blame himself for you running yourself into the ground," Bobby leaned back picking at a cuticle trying to play down the ploy to get Dean to admit he needed a real break and to take one.

"Dammit," Dean hissed under his breath. He scrubbed a hand over his face and through his hair. "That's not fair Bobby," he lamented.

"What isn't fair?" Bobby tried to look dumbfounded.

"You damn well," Dean countered. "You're playin' the Sam card on me."

"Is it workin'?" Bobby offered a sly smile. Dean sat silent and looked at his little brother and then back at the older man. "It's true ya know," Bobby pushed the subject gently. "He'll take one look at you and he's going to know you look like road kill cause you haven't left his side."

"Fine," Dean snapped. "I'll take a walk around the hospital or something, stretch my legs," Dean offered. Bobby shook his head.

"Nope, your ass is leavin' this place for at least a couple hours or so. Go to the motel and get some real sleep, grab some food, relax," he encouraged. "I got that motel room and I'm only sleepin' in it. It's got the two beds, and I haven't been able to get you back there since …" Dean looked at him. They both knew when the last time Dean had left Sam and had gone to the motel. It was Sam had convinced Bobby to not call Dean and then Sam had ended up in brain surgery and now he was still in a coma.

"I don't think leaving is such a great idea Bobby." Dean decided not to rehash his anger over the whole Bobby and Sam incident.

"You need to get out of here for a while Dean," Bobby's voice was strong and even. "You've been inside this hospital for eight days straight now and it isn't healthy. Look, I'll be here and if he has so much as a finger spasm I'll call you and have you come right back, all right?" He could see he was winning the battle with Dean. He just needed to push a little more. "I promise I'll call," he urged. "You know Sam would want you to get some real air and get out of here … you know I'm right." He saw the defeat before Dean even looked up at him. Bobby knew he had one this battle.

"Okay," Dean acquiesced to Bobby's request as the older man's request. "You're a sneaky bastard you know? Playing the Sammy card on me," Dean offered a small grin.

"Yeah, I guess I am," Bobby relented with a chuckle. Dean stood up and stretched his back.

"Sam?" he stood over his brother and ran a hand along the side of his brother's head that hadn't been operated on. "I'm going to go stretch my legs, okay? Bobby's gonna be here and I'll be back," his hand came down and rested on his brother's chest. His hand remained there as the ventilator completed its up down movements of his brother's chest. He looked at Bobby. "If anything…"

"I'll call," Bobby answered quickly knowing where the young hunter's statement was headed. Dean nodded and shifted his gaze back to his brother for a moment and left.

**Downtown Rapid City, South Dakota**

Dean navigated the busy downtown streets away from the hospital and drove toward the motel. Dean glanced at a building and shook his head slightly, "You must be losin' it Winchester if you're thinking of going in there," he chastised himself out loud in the car. He drove passed the large stone building and waited at a red light. He could see the _Carriage Inn Motel_ a short distance up the block. The light turned green and dean found himself sighing loudly and flipping on his left turn signal. He turned down a side street and turned around and headed back down the road. He pulled into a large parking lot and turned off the Impala. He got out of the car and walked up a large set of stone steps.

**St. Francis of Assisi Catholic Church **

Dean pulled open the large wooden doors and entered. He stepped into a gothic stone structure. The air smelled comforting in a strange way to Dean. The main sanctuary was well lit by afternoon sunlight coming in through the large stain glassed windows. There was a small inset area off the sanctuary that held a lengthy bank of candles, some burning others awaiting a prayer and to be lit. Dean half expected to burst into flames by walking into the church, he wasn't exactly a person of faith, not like his little brother, but he felt this was the right place to be, he could do this for Sammy. He approached the room with candles. He noticed above the stone archway were chiseled words in the stone …_Where there is doubt faith, where there is despair, hope… _Dean let the words settle in his mind and sighed as he walked into the room. There were four wooden pews to sit and pray, he approached the candles.

"This is for Sammy," Dean's voice was quiet as he lit the candle. He sat down in a pew. He felt nervous and every fiber in his body was telling him to run, but he stayed, he stayed for Sam. "Look," he started with hesitation. "I don't have faith like Sammy, I'm not even sure you exist, but Sam says if there is evil there has to be good, if there is a Hell, there has to be a Heaven, so I'm giving him and you the benefit of the doubt. I guess if you really are up there somewhere then I'm sure I'm the last person you're gonna want to listen to, but I'm here for Sam 'cause he needs something good to happen. He's had enough shit to deal with," Dean frowned a second, "sorry for saying _shit_," he relented. "I meant to say he's been through enough crap ya know, and he still believes in the good stuff. He keeps my ass," he squirmed in his seat and rephrased, "he keeps my butt in line, and if it wasn't for Sammy I would have lost it when Dad died, but he was there and I tried to push him away and I was tail spinning, but Sammy saved me from myself. I can't lose him, not again."

Dean bowed his head wanting so desperately to believe that is little brother was right and that there was some higher power. "I need Sam to wake up and be okay. I need him," Dean's voice broke. "I know I don't deserve anything from you, but do this for Sam, okay? He needs this, all right?" Dean felt a wave of anger wash over him suddenly. "I can't believe I prayin' to the empty air. If there is a God, he's not gonna be listenin' to my sorry ass," he half hissed, half mumbled to himself out loud.

"God hears all prayers, my son," Dean spun around to see an older man, obviously in priest attire, white collar and all. The man looked like he was in his mid to late sixties. "I'm Father Macleod," the priest extended his hand.

Dean shook the man's hand. "I'm Dean … yeah, well, I doubt the big man upstairs is listenin' to me, I'm not exactly what you'd call a believer, ya know Padre?" The man offered a gentle all knowing smile.

"Not a believer, huh? Well, something brought you here, something made you pray."

"My little brother believes in this stuff. I guess you could say he's got enough faith for both of us," Dean offered.

"And, you're praying for him aren't you? His faith brought you here."

"I don't know why I'm here," Dean complained. "I shouldn't have come," he started to stand to leave and the priest laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Please, stay," he requested. "Let's talk, no Bible thumping, I promise," he said with a grin. Dean couldn't help but smile softly. The man had a laid back sense to him and Dean found himself being gently guided into the main sanctuary and walked near the altar where they sat in the front pew. "So, may I intrude and ask what has prompted you to borrow some of your brother's faith to come here and pray for him?"

"Sam's sick," Dean started. "He's in a coma, it's a long story," his voice was tight as he tried to keep his emotions in check. "Look, if there is a God, he's not listenin' to me; I'm not worth his time."

"You know when I was your age maybe a little younger, I wasn't a believer, I questioned a lot, doubted, too," the priest said with a soft smile. "I was into reading Ambrose Bierce and Nietzsche. Ambrose Pierce wrote that word pray meant, _to ask that the laws of the universe be annulled in behalf of a single petitioner confessedly unworthy_." Dean chuckled.

"Dude, sounds like he knew what he was talking about … he put that in a book or something?" The priest smiled and nodded.

"Yes, he did actually a dictionary of sorts," the religious man replied.

"Dictionary?"

"Yes, he called it the '_The Devil's Dictionary_' and there were a lot of words re-defined in there just like his version _pray._" The priest saw Dean's curious look at the notion the man had read a book with such a title. "Hey, I told you I wasn't exactly lining up for the priesthood when I was younger."

"What made you believe?" Dean turned searching eyes toward the older man.

"I don't know really," the man started. "Faith sort of has a way of finding you when you need it the most, I guess … whether you're looking for it or not." He took a breath and continued. "My older sister was dying; she had a tumor in her heart they couldn't do anything for. I remember I prayed for her to a God I wasn't sure I believed in, my sister was like your brother in the sense she had enough faith to go around. She was okay with what she had been given to bear, but I sure wasn't. I was filled with rage over her dying. So, I decided to pray for her and at least try her way at the whole God thing," he smiled softly. "I ask God to make her better or to bring a doctor into her life that felt he could help her and find some hope in her condition."

"So, what happened?" Dean asked hopeful and pushed when the religious man's voice dropped off. "Did a doctor find a way to help her?"

"No," the priest answered solemnly. "Laura died a month later…" Dean's eyes fell away and looked stricken, his mind going back to Sam in the hospital. "No, no," the priest urged. "Don't feel as if there is no hope. Laura and I talked everyday leading up to the day she passed. I told her I didn't believe in God and when she asked me 'why' I told her I tried praying for her, for help and that I didn't think if there was God he was listening to me and he certainly wasn't answering prayers and you know what she said?"

Dean shook his head.

"She told me she read once that God hears all prayers and that he answers all prayers too, but that sometimes the answer is 'no' and that was where faith came into play because you had to have faith in the fact that God has a plan for us all whether we want to accept that path or not. Laura told me that faith would find me. She died on a Saturday morning, two days before her twenty-third birthday…" the man's voice quieted for a long moment as his mind brought up images of his sister.

"And?" Dean's voice was thick.

"She left two books with our mom for her to give me after her funeral. They were books she had read in college before she had to leave classes when she became ill they were by John Milton, _Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained_," the priest allowed a soft chuckle to leave his chest and throat. "The irony of the book titles wasn't lost on me," he grinned. "My sister was a little pistol and she left a letter in there for me to, said some things, but she dog-eared a page and underlined a passage in _Paradise Lost_…"

"What passage?" Dean pushed gently.

"_Long is the way, and hard, that out of hell leads up to the light_," Father Macleod stated firmly. "She wrote in the margin for me, too. She said when my faith found me, so would the light and it did a few years later and here I am. I always knew she thought a little too much, used to kid her about it to, called her a bookworm and a study hound." Dean laughed a genuine all-knowing laugh, as if he'd found himself a coconspirator in the old priest. The religious man smiled.

"Sammy's always got his nose in something, researching on the Net or some old dusty book. He was always the brains of the family. He even learned to speak Latin when he was little. I usually call him College Boy or Geek-boy," Dean's smiled softly at the warm memory of his little brother. "I like to make fun of his frou-frou coffee, too … you know he can't just have the standard black cup of Joe, nah, he's gotta order that half caff, double latte mumbo jumbo with foam or something."

"Laura had her quirks, too," the priest relented with a grin. Dean grew serious again.

"I need Sam to be okay. I want him to open his eyes and be all right."

"I know you do, but you must be strong regardless of the outcome."

"No, you don't get it … I … I almost lost him a few months ago, I remember what it felt to look at a life without him around and it isn't one I want, it makes you desperate to make things right, desperate to not let go. You talk about faith leading you into the light or whatever but Sam he is …" Dean's voice choked off. He refused to have a chick flick breakdown in a church with a perfect stranger.

"He is what?" The priest urged gently.

"Nothin'," Dean answered quickly. "I better go," he started to stand and the older man put a hand on his shoulder to keep him sitting.

"You were going to say Sam is your light weren't you that he's the one that keeps you from the darkness of life," Dean turned wide-eyes toward the man. "I'm not a mind reader Dean, only a man who had a sibling I was close to once, as well. I know the desperate feeling you speak of … fear of loss isn't a singular experience, you don't share it alone my son, it's part of the human condition, it's just that some of us have to deal with a lot more than others, but loss is universal my child."

Dean sat silently. The religious man finally broke the long silence.

"Open your heart to him Dean," Father Macleod inclined his head toward the altar and the elevated cross with the crucified Jesus on it, "he'll listen, Dean even if you doubt he exists, he will hear you. I'll leave you alone," the man's voice was strong. "I've taken too much of your time all ready. It's time for me to go anyway."

"Hey Padre," Dean looked up at the man as the priest stood up. "I get what you've said, I do. I still don't know about any of this religion stuff but thanks anyway."

"My pleasure, and say hello to that brother of yours for me, okay?" Dean smiled as he felt a bit of hope that Sam would open his eyes and he could tell Sammy about his little side trip to a church, he was sure Sam would either laugh himself silly or flat out not believe him that he'd gone to a church. Dean nodded. "Oh," the priest said a moment later. "I almost forgot could you pass one more message along for me?"

"Sure."

"Tell Sam _Amour Vincit Omnia_ since he knows his Latin and that what he's been looking for … I assume all that researching you mentioned he likes to do, tell him the answer he's been searching for has always been right in front of his face and has been for a very long time. Tell him it was when he questioned the faith in one and placed it in another." Dean looked oddly at the old priest. "Try to remember as much of that as you can my son. I know I sound like a crazy old man all of a sudden, but your brother will understand, all right?"

"Yeah, sure thing Father," Dean still looked quizzically at the older man and watched the man turn to leave. Dean looked back at the altar for a moment and then remembered he had one more thing to say to the priest. "Hey Father?" he turned around but the priest had all ready left the sanctuary. Dean sighed and turned back. He bowed his head, feeling a bit odd and humbled at the same time. He prayed silently, but for him it was more a conversation in his head with someone he wasn't sure existed but for Sam he'd try.

**A Few Moments Later**

Dean walked into the large stone lobby cast in various colors as the afternoon sunlight broke through a stain glass window near the door. He saw the candle room to his right, but something caught his eye in the small room off to the left. He walked inside briefly just to satisfy his curiosity. There were a few candles lit in red and white glass votives. There was a wreath accented by white orchids and a large picture off to the right in a regal looking frame. It was the smiling face of Father Macleod. The words posted below the Father's picture said _'At Rest with the Lord' _Dean stared hard at the words and the picture. He read further: _In Loving Remembrance of a man of God and of this parish: Father Gerard Macleod 1940-2007_.

"May I help you? I'm Father Moore," a young priest, maybe in his early thirties said from behind Dean and the young hunter spun around looking at the priest. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to startle you. Did you know Father Macleod?"

"Uh," Dean looked from the priest standing in front of him back to the memorial picture of the old priest he had just spoken with a short while ago. "Yeah," he finally managed to reply. "When did he?" The priest looked stricken all of a sudden.

"Oh, I'm so sorry you didn't know. I apologize for you finding out this way. I thought we had sent out notice to every listed as members of the parish."

"No, I'm not a member, I…"

"It's okay," the priest replied. "Father Macleod helped many people even those that weren't regular parishioners. He was a good and gentle man, always there to help and provide some solid advice. Father Macleod passed away peacefully two days ago in his sleep." Dean dealt with this stuff all the time, yet he was still floored by what had happened. He'd just spent the better part of the last half hour or so speaking with a spirit. Then the words Father Macleod had said to him just before he left, _I've taken too much of your time all ready. It's time for me to go anyway._

"I should go," Dean answered suddenly.

"Don't feel rushed on my account," the priest hurried. "I don't want to chase you off."

"You're not," Dean assured.

"Father Moore," a matronly woman said from the lobby. "I'm sorry to interrupt but there is a parishioner on the phone that would like to speak with you about the craft bazaar this weekend."

"I'm sorry," the priest said looking at Dean. "I'll leave you alone, please feel free to stay as long as you like. If you need anything, don't hesitate to come find me in my office. Dean nodded and was thankful to see the priest go. He turned his eyes back to the picture of the older priest he had spoken to.

"Hey Padre," Dean spoke softly to the picture. "I'm not sure why you chose me to speak to before crossing over or whatever… usually Sammy is the one with that _Sixth Sense_ crap, or at least he used to be before old yellow eyes took his final bow, but I'm glad I was your last charity case," Dean smiled. He lit a white candle in a red glass votive, "Rest in peace Father. Thanks for talkin' to me; I'm not sure about this whole religion thing, but thanks anyway." Dean left still a bit awed by the fact he'd been visited by a spirit and something told him the priest had crossed over, but even if he hasn't he wasn't going to hunt him, the priest was a good man even in death there was no malice and if he wanted to stay in his church Dean wasn't going to remove him. He shook his head slightly and laughed … Sam would never let him live this one down, he'd say he was going soft, but he didn't care.

**Meanwhile, The Neurology Skilled Car Unit, Sam's Room**

"Well," Bobby looked at his watch. "That brother of yours has been gone for an hour now," Bobby looked at Sam's silent features. "I hope he's getting some rest. So, how about we have a little heart to heart kiddo," Bobby smiled and took Sam's limp hand in his own.

"Your brother has been here everyday since your surgery you know? Me too since they moved you out of ICU. Sam it's hard seeing you this way and I wish to hell that none of this had happened. I want you to know that I've still been looking into Dean's deal, I haven't forgotten," Bobby spoke gently. "I know you'd want me to keep looking, but I haven't found anything yet, well nothing solid at least, but I won't give up Sam, I promise. I need you to wake up kiddo and come back to us. You boys are my family and I couldn't love you anymore if you were my own. Your daddy was a stubborn horse's ass most of the time I knew him, but never doubt that he loved you, okay?" Bobby watched Sam's silent features and silently prayed for some response, a small twitch, but nothing happened.

"I'm surprised Dean hasn't been calling every ten minutes to check up on you. I think if you had an idea of how much he's been fussing over you, you'd wake up on principal alone. He's worried you won't wake up Sam … he's worried his bill could come due and you'll still be in this damn coma. You have to listen to me Sam, I'm not sure where you are, but it's time to wake up because I think Dean's gonna implode any day now if you don't." Bobby smiled gently at Sam and rubbed his rough hand over the cool skin of Sam's hand.

"Sorry to interrupt," Karen, Sam's nurse entered. "I just need to change out his IV fluids, check his vitals and he's due for an injection."

"It's okay," Bobby replied. "Can I stay? I promised Dean I wouldn't leave him."

"Sure, no problem. So have you been talking his ear off?"

"Trying to, I'm not sure it's helping," Bobby lamented.

"I think it gets through. After all, there are studies that say comatose people might be hearing what goes on around them. It sure couldn't hurt." Bobby nodded. "Hmm," Karen said to herself as she did a quick examination of Sam's pupils with a penlight.

"What? What is it?" Bobby felt alarm clench inside his chest.

"Maybe nothing," she answered absently as she flashed a penlight over Sam's pupils once again. "His pupils are reacting a bit more briskly to the light…"

"Is that good or bad?" Bobby needed an answer now and he was all ready standing at Sam's side opposite of Karen on the other side of the bed.

"No, it's a good sign, well, a good sign neurologically. I wonder…" she proceeded to rub her knuckles vigorously over Sam's sternum as she spoke, "Sam? Sam can you hear me? Sam?" Bobby watched Sam's brow furrow ever so slightly and watched in amazement as Sam's arms moved just a little in an attempt to escape the painful stimuli that Karen was causing. His facial features smoothed again and he relaxed.

"He moved!" Bobby's voice couldn't mask his happiness. "That means he's coming out of the coma, right?"

"Well, it is a positive move. I'll page Dr. Lowe and Dr. Goosby, but Mr. Singer this is very good step for Sam." Karen smiled and left the room.

"I gotta call Dean," Bobby grabbed his cell phone out of his pocket. "Sam, I'll be right back okay. I have to call your brother and tell him the news. I'm just going to the hallway, I'll be right back," Bobby reached down and gently patted Sam's chest.

**Ten Minutes Later**

"Finally," Bobby grumbled. "Damn reception in this place you'd think the walls were ten feet thick concrete or something. I need a new phone," he complained. He dialed Dean's cell number again and this time the call went through and didn't drop before it connected. It rang only once before Dean's edgy tone came across the other end.

"Bobby? Is Sam okay? What's wrong?"

"Well, for starter's you can calm down okay. Sam's okay, nothings wrong, all right? He moved his arms when Karen did an awareness test … you know the one where they try to get him to respond to pain," Bobby said hurriedly.

"Sammy moved?" Dean's voice was filled with hope.

"Wrinkled his eyebrows, too," Bobby answered. "The doc's have been paged to come examine him, so they should be here in a little bit."

"I'm on my way Bobby," Dean answered quickly.

"Hey, did you get to rest at all? You weren't gone very long," Bobby asked.

"I sort of got side tracked, but I'm okay. I'll be there in a ten minutes or so … traffic's a bitch right now."

"I'll see you when you get here."

Bobby closed his phone and made his way back to Sam's room to wait for the doctors and Dean.

"Hey Sam," Bobby spoke up as he approached the young man's bedside. "Sorry, I was gone longer than I thought I'd be, but Dean will be here soon. I'm hoping the doc's have some good news when they take a look at you. Come on Sam," he urged. "You can do this, okay? Come back to us," he coaxed gently. "Nap time is over," he cajoled softly as he rubbed Sam's hand.

**To Be Continued**

I'm guessing this will have one or two more chapters (could be more), but I'm trying to get this story complete by January 7 because my schedule will be nuts after that and I don't want you to wait forever between posts, so I'm going to try to finish up before this story goes on and on and becomes an epic. If by some chance I don't finish up before January 7 I will make every effort to post at least one a week even if that means a chapter is on the small side … better something than nothing, right? I hope you're still enjoying the story. Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**NOTE TO READERS: **This chapter is 9 pages long. Thanks for all the reviews on the previous chapters. I hope you enjoy this chapter. I appreciate you all taking the time to read. I'm still not finished yet, but hopefully in another chapter or two, we'll see.

Happy Reading!

**Stay**

**Chapter Eight**

By Dawn Nyberg

"_Love is a growing or full constant light…" _excerpt by John Donne, _Holy Sonnets _

**Two Days Earlier, Neurology Skilled Care Unit**

"How is he?" Dean asked anxiously as the doctors left Sam's room. Dean felt as if he were about to combust from nervous energy. He had broken at least ten traffic laws to get to the hospital after Bobby called to tell him Sam had moved and that the doctors had been paged to examine him and determine if he were coming out of the coma.

"Well," Dr. Lowe began with a confident smile. "Both Dr. Goosby and I are in agreement that Sam is showing purposeful movements now, and his neurological exam is positive.

"So, he's comin' out of the coma?" Dean asked hopeful as he dared to allow himself to smile just a little. Bobby stood anxiously at Dean's side waiting for the physician's response.

"Yes," Dr. Lowe answered. "He is making some positive moves," he turned to Dr. Goosby to continue.

"I feel he should be waking soon."

"Soon?" Bobby asked before Dean could open his mouth.

The doctors offered understanding smiles. "It could be hours or a few days, but he is waking up," Dr. Goosby replied.

"I do have a bit of news I'm sure you'll be happy to hear though," Dr. Lowe chimed into the conversation.

"What?" Dean's gaze intensified.

"Well, as you know Sam has always been breathing on his own all along and we intubated him with a breathing tube in order to protect his airway, however, his gag reflex is responsive now, so we felt safe enough in his recovery to remove the tube and take him off the ventilator."

"The tube's out of his throat now?" Dean felt a weight in his chest lift.

"I think he'll appreciate not waking up to a breathing tube. Now, if for some reason Sam were to back slide a bit in his level of consciousness and reacting to stimuli we may have to reevaluate him again and it could become necessary to intubate him once again, but for now we are confident in our examination that Sam is waking from the coma."

"But there's a chance he could slip back into the coma before he even wakes up?" Dean lamented and Bobby reached up and offered a comforting squeeze on Dean's shoulder.

"There's a chance, yes," Dr. Lowe confirmed. "But, it's a small chance Dean," he assured. "So small in fact based on our exams of Sam that I'm willing to say that Sam is on his way back and will be waking from the coma."

"So, it could be hours or even days…" Bobby asked. He needed to confirm what the prognosis was for Sam, so that he and Dean could both keep their sanity while they waited. He needed to know that Sam waking in hours was just a possible as it taking a few more days.

"Yes," Dr. Lowe confirmed. "You and Dean can probably expect him to start moving more, possibly even squeezing your hands. He will emerge in increments, but when he opens his eyes he should be able to communicate once he gets himself orientated. You both have to remember that Sam suffered a cardiac arrest, a ruptured vessel in his brain and went through brain surgery. He's been out of it since the vascular rupture, so he'll likely be confused. Give him some time, but I'm confident as is Dr. Goosby that Sam should be opening his eyes soon."

"And, you're still confident that Sam hasn't suffered any long term damage," Bobby pushed gently. He needed to know if that prognosis was still good or did he need to be prepared to keep Dean and himself from losing it if Sam wakes up different and in need of long-term care.

"We are both confident that based on the scans and preliminary neurological tests that we've been able to run with Sam unconscious that it appears there has been no brain damage from the vascular incident, however, we can only be certain once Sam has fully come into consciousness and we are able to assess him then," Dr. Goosby responded. Dean and Bobby offered tight nods. Their chests were both somewhat tight at the thought there could be some unforeseen deficit the doctors had missed.

"So, you movin' him back to the other side of the unit now that he's off the vent?" Dean asked.

"No, we'd like to keep him on the skilled care side until he wakes up and is orientated. We don't want to bombard him with too much stimuli and a room with three other roommates until we're sure he's stable and ready to be moved."

Dean felt a sense of relief at those words. He was glad that Sam wasn't being hauled off out of the private room. Both he and Bobby liked the privacy with Sam.

"You can go sit with him now," Dr. Lowe stepped away from the doorway to Sam's room.

"Thanks doc," Dean replied with a small smile of thanks toward both doctors.

Dean and Bobby both took up residence at Sam's bedside. Bobby took Sam's left side and Dean took Sam's right.

"Hey Sammy," Dean spoke softly. "Come on kiddo,' Dean picked up his little brother's right hand and began stroking the inside of his palm. "Open those eyes Sammy come on," he coaxed.

"Listen to your big brother," Bobby chimed in as he too picked up one of Sam's hands and enveloped it between both of his and squeezed gently.

**Two Days Later, Neurology Skilled Care Unit**

"Sam," Dean's voice had become more urgent and commanding over the last couple days since the doctors had said Sam was waking up. Sam had been in the coma ten days now and he had been moving more and more the last day and half. He had even begun creasing his eyebrows and pulling his hand away from Dean when his big brother called his name and flicked the inside of his palm with an index finger. "Sammy," Dean flicked his palm again to try and illicit a response from his brother and it worked as he tried to pull his hand away while scrunching his face up in what looked like annoyance rather than pain to Dean. "Come on Sam," Dean commanded. "I'll stop buggin' you when you open those eyes," he flicked again and Sam's finger's closed downward in an attempt to stop the offending flick. Dean smiled and looked at Bobby. The older hunter had a smile on his face too and Dean could see that Sam's fingers from his left hand were curled around Bobby's.

"He's got a good grip," Bobby replied. "Sam," his voice was loud and insistent. "Wake up Sam. Open your eyes," he commanded. The fingers curled tighter and released. "Come on," he squeezed Sam's hand.

"That's it Sammy," Dean leaned closer to his brother's head. "Sam," his voice deepened into the familiar tone John Winchester used to use on his boys and Dean had obviously been a good study. "Sam, open your eyes and stop screwing around now. It's time to wake up," he reached up and rubbed his knuckles up and down on his little brother's sternum. He hated hurting him but if pain drew him into the waking world then it was a necessary evil right now. Sam's arms moved upward as he tried to withdraw from the painful stimuli. "Right now, Sam!" Dean commanded his tone serious. "Sammy I mean it, open your eyes," and then something changed suddenly as Sam turned his head toward the sound of his brother's voice. "Sam?" Dean leaned forward in excitement. He reached up and rubbed his brother's sternum again as he called his name and commanded him, "Sam, come on and open your eyes now. Sammy?"

Sam's face scrunched and his eyes began to flutter erratically while Dean and Bobby suddenly sat there silent in rapt awe but as it became obvious that Sam was beginning to settle back into his warm cocoon of sleep Dean pushed forward again.

"No way Sammy, no more sleeping," he spoke up and started rubbing his sternum again. "Sam! Open your eyes."

Bobby began a light flicking of Sam's left palm. "Listen to your brother Sam," he prompted in his best authoritative Bobby Singer voice.

Sam's arms were moving but Dean and Bobby were keeping them under control. His eyes were fluttering again. "Sam? Sammy? Come on!" and then it happened … Sam's eyes slowly opened and Dean made sure he was in his brother's line of sight. Sam's eyes were foggy and unfocused, "Sammy? Hey kiddo, you in there?" his voice softened to allow his brother a chance to focus. Dean smiled as he watched the fog slip from his little brother's eyes and he truly focused on his big brother's face.

"Dean?" a small confused voice croaked in a mere whisper. Dean felt a hot sting in his eyes and he smiled his 1,000 watt Dean Winchester smile at his sibling.

**Three Hours Later**

"We couldn't be happier with Sam's exams," Dr. Lowe stated. "There is no sign of deficit from the rupture or cardiac arrest. He's a bit confused at losing ten days, but that's to be expected. Dr. Goosby had to go to the ER for an emergency but he wanted me to relay to you that he's confident that Sam will make a full recovery from the brain surgery."

Dean let out a shaky breath he didn't realize he was holding. "So, you're absolutely sure his heads okay?" Dean pushed.

"Well, in terms of the brain surgery that addressed the vascular rupture, yes, but we still have to manage the neurocysticercosis." Dean rubbed a tired hand over his face for a moment. "I plan to reevaluate Sam in another couple days so we can restart a treatment course for Sam."

"Yeah, I don't know," Dean hedged suddenly. "I mean it's the treatment for that neuro stuff that almost killed him. If it wasn't for all that up and down swelling his vessel wouldn't have blown like it did…"

"That's not exactly true Dean," Dr. Lowe countered. "That vascular bundle was always weak and there are a number of things that could have triggered a rupture, but Sam was lucky that it happened here in a hospital. It saved him valuable time and allowed for immediate medical treatment. We spoke all ready about the outcome had this happened outside of a hospital, Sam would have most certainly died. I understand your hesitation but we will monitor him closely for any complications. I'll discuss this with both you and Sam in a couple days when he's had a little more time to recoup. It'll have to be a decision Sam ultimately has to make. He's had a lot thrown at him today and he needs to rest and assimilate."

"When can we see him?" Bobby stepped forward while he saw that Dean was still processing the physician's words.

"Right now if you want," Dr. Lowe answered easily. "He's been settled back in his room. He won't be transferred back to the regular side of the neurology unit for another couple days."

"Thanks," Bobby replied. "Dean?" The older hunter turned his attention to the young man. "Did you hear the doc? We can go sit with Sam now."

"Huh? Yeah," he answered distracted. His mind all ready painting nightmare scenarios where Sam succumbed to some new complication from starting the treatment for his condition. "Yeah, uh, thanks doc."

"No problems … if you or Sam needs anything don't hesitate to have me paged. I'll be by later this afternoon on rounds, okay?" Dean nodded and Bobby patted the young hunter on the back urging him toward the neurology unit.

**Two Days Later, Neurology Skilled Care Unit**

"So, that's our latest determination Sam," Dr. Lowe spoke. "The MRI from this morning still shows areas that we need to address. We'll keep you on the dexamethasone since it appears for the most part this steroid seems to agree with you better. I'd like to switch you back to albendazole to treat the neurocysticercosis and see if you tolerate it better the second time around."

"_See_ if he tolerates it better, you're kidding, right?" Dean gave the doctor an accusing look. He half wished Bobby were here and not at the motel just so he could back him up.

"Dean," Sam tried to reign in his brother but when Dean was in big brother mode it was practically impossible.

"No, Sam," Dean countered. "All of those damn drugs caused some kind of problem with you and that one you had more seizures more swelling…"

"Dean, there's always some kind of swelling during this treatment … right doc?" Sam looked at the physician.

"Yes, when the cysts die the area around the lesions swells. It is this process that brought you to the ER that day from collapsing in the diner with a seizure," he replied. Regardless of the medication to treat this condition you would have most likely continued to have seizures or other complications as the cysts went through their natural life cycle and died. At least here you can have medical monitoring and once we're sure you're tolerating the meds we can talk about releasing you on monitoring, a med cycle and periodic scans throughout your treatment."

"I still don't like it," Dean was the proverbial brick wall.

"I'll try the other stuff again doc and we can see how it goes," Sam answered.

"Good," Dr. Lowe answered. "I'll have a dose delivered today to your room. The sooner we start this the sooner we can see about giving you your walking papers. Dr. Goosby wants to be cautious due to your brain surgery but we will monitor you closely for probably a week before we feel comfortable in discharging you." Sam nodded with a solemn look. "Hey, I know when all of this started you didn't expect to spend over a month in the hospital." Sam offered a lopsided tired grin.

"So, you're gonna be watching him like a hawk and if anything…"

"We'll address any issues Dean," the doctor countered quickly. Dean offered a small nod but his facial features showed he was clearly not buying this idea of treatment and looked doubtful.

**Ten Minutes Later**

"Where's Bobby?" Sam asked through a yawn.

"I told him to get a break and take some time off, he's at the motel." Dean answered. "Looks like you could use some more beauty sleep there kiddo." Dean commented as he watched his brother yawn a second time.

"I was in a coma for ten days Dean I got plenty of sleep," Sam's voice was annoyed yet very tired.

"A coma ain't sleepin' Sammy and you know it," Dean countered. "Close your eyes for a while. I'll be here."

"No, I can stay up, I'm fine, Dean. Come on, man."

"Look," Dean leaned forward. "Why don't you at least nap for a few minutes, okay? Then we can talk, how does that sound?"

"Talk? About what?" Sam was all ready nestling down into his pillow.

"Maybe thinking up some other kind of treatment," Dean began. "I got a bad feeling about this Sammy."

"Dean, I'm gonna be okay," Sam gently reached up and scratched at some of his stubby hair around his now uncovered surgical site. "Of course, I'd like to have all my hair though," he gave a slightly perturbed look at his older brother. Dean smiled.

"Yeah, well, be careful poking around there, okay? Anyway, it'll grow back and they only took that little bit, you baby." The thin scar was evident through the shaved portion of Sam's hair. It wasn't extremely long but it still gave Dean pause because he was reminded that his little brother's brain had been poked around in and it made him slightly nauseous to think about.

"Itches," Sam complained and dropped his hand from his head.

"Be glad anything itches Sammy, you almost died," Dean replied with a haunted look. Sam didn't miss the expression.

"I'm sorry," he spoke quietly. Dean looked at his brother intently for a moment.

"Sorry for what? Almost dying? It wasn't your fault," Dean replied quickly.

"Nah, for puttin' you through all this, you've got enough on your mind all ready."

"We're not talking about the deal, okay? You need to rest," Dean commanded gently.

"But, we're running out of time Dean. I've wasted a whole damn month being sick. I need to…"

Dean cut his brother off, "Sammy, the only thing you need to do right now, is get better and get the hell out of this hospital. Now get some rest dammit or I'm gonna have you sedated or something." Sam rolled his eyes at his brother but decided not to press the issue just right now. He could see Dean needed the mental break as much as he needed to sleep so he acquiesced to his big brother's wishes … for now.

**Four Days Later, Neurology Unit**

Dean and Bobby preferred keeping the privacy curtain somewhat pulled close to close off the other occupants of the room. Sam had been transferred back to the regular side of the neurology unit two days ago and so far he had been tolerating the restarted treatment for his neurocysticercosis. "So how you feelin' today Sam?" Bobby inquired while Dean went to get coffee.

"Okay, I'm ready to leave this place like yesterday," Sam complained. Bobby didn't miss the wince that crossed Sam's face.

"You sure you're feelin' okay? Your head hurtin' you?"

"I got a little leadache but the doc said my latest scans didn't show any major swelling, so don't worry, all right?"

"You're preachin' to the choir Sam," Bobby said as he pressed the call button.

"What are you doing?"

"I want to the doc to take another look at you and when Dean gets back with that coffee he's going to agree with me 100 percent." Sam rolled his eyes. Dean was bad enough in protective mode but now he had Bobby to deal with too. It was a lose-lose scenario.

A few minutes later, Dean was walking into the unit just about the time he saw Dr. Lowe walk into his little brother's room. He picked up his pace to catch up. "What's wrong?" Dean's voice sounded heavy with concern as he saw the doctor pull back the curtain a bit to see Sam. "You okay Sammy?"

"I'm fine Dean," Sam answered. "Blame Bobby, he thinks because I have a little headache he needs to call in the Calvary or something. I'm fine."

"Bobby's right Sam we're not messin' around with your head anymore."

"Let me take a look and examine him," Dr. Lowe answered easily. "May Sam and I have some time alone, so I can take a look?" Bobby and Dean offered begrudging nods and stepped out into the hallway.

**A Few Minutes Later**

"Well?" Dean pushed himself off the wall as he saw the doctor walk out of the room.

"It's a mild headache Dean," Dr. Lowe assured. "I've written an order for some Tylenol. We'll give him another MRI in the morning. He's tolerating the restarted albendazole and so far his dosage of dexamethasone 2 mg appears to be working."

"Appears? Look he's got a headache so that could be more swelling, right? Maybe you should scan him now."

"We could, but Sam insists his headache isn't that bad and he's showing no signs of increased edema from his last scan. He has had no breakthrough seizure activity while still on is anti-seizure meds and there have been no other problems."

"Both these boys have a tendency to downplay how they're feeling," Bobby relayed to the doctor. "They like to suffer in silence you know?"

"I'll take that into account, but right now Sam's vitals are strong and there isn't a significant change in his heart rate or respirations to indicate he's in distress. I even took his blood pressure myself and it was fine, not too low and not high. If his headache increases then I'll have him taken for a stat MRI, otherwise we'll scan him in the morning."

Dean offered a reluctant nod and Bobby did the same.

**Next Day, 8 AM, Neurology Unit**

Dean shifted in the sleeping chair. Sam had slept in this morning. Sam had said he was fine before going to sleep but Dean knew his headache had never gone away. He saw Sam shift a little in the bed and sigh … the standard Sam Winchester pre-waking routine since he was five. He moves a little, scrunches his face and sighs before opening his eyes. Dean smiled at the familiar process.

"Rise and shine Sammy boy," Dean said with a light hearted tone. Sam opened his eyes and looked at his brother. "Bobby's gonna be here in another half hour or so and I bet he's going to sneak in some contraband for us," Dean wagged his eyebrows. "McDonald's, man," Dean rolled his eyes when his brother just looked at him with a dumbfounded expression. "I'm dying for a sausage and egg biscuit with a hash brown. I bet he brings something for you, too."

"You're a bottomless pit Dean," Sam commented as he started to shift more as he fully waked and his face hardened for a moment and then something akin to panic crossed his face.

"Sammy?" Dean saw the panic creep into his little brother's face. He was all ready standing at his bedside in an instant. "Sam? What is it?"

"Dean," Sam turned horrified eyes toward his brother, his voice held panic and fear. "I… I can't move my right leg, my right arm," Sam's arm moved fractionally as he attempted to move his right arm, but his right leg wasn't moving at all. Dean? What's wrong with me? I can't move my leg!" Dean's finger was smashing the call button down as he yelled at the same time.

"Help! I need some help in here," he shouted. He dropped one hand onto his little brother's shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. "It's gonna be okay Sammy." He hoped he wasn't lying to his brother.

**To Be Continued**

Well, I was going to try and finish this by January 7 because of my schedule, but you know what they say about the road to hell, it's paved with good intentions. I'll make every effort to post a chapter a week until the story is done. I hope I can have it completed in another couple chapters. I hope you're still enjoying the story. Thanks for reading, I appreciate it. Also, to everyone that takes the time to review, thanks a bunch! The next chapter should be ready by next weekend either January 12 or 13. I'll try.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**NOTE TO READERS: **My apologies for missing my previous weekend posting schedule. Real life hammered me over the weekend and I couldn't get in enough time to finish the chapter. This chapter is around 11 pages long so at least you have a little chunk to read. I hope you enjoy the new update. Thank you for all of the reviews and PM's, I appreciate them all. Happy Reading!

**Chapter Nine**

**Stay**

By Dawn Nyberg

"_If I tell you, will you listen? Will you stay? Will you be here forever? Never go away?" _lyricexcerpt by Within Temptation, _Bittersweet_

"Help! I need some help in here," he was shouting. He dropped one hand onto his little brother's shoulder in an attempt to comfort. "It's gonna be okay Sammy." He hoped he wasn't lying to his brother.

**Two Hours Later, Neurology Conference Room**

"Dean you need to relax," Bobby suggested gently as he leaned back in one of the conference room leather chairs. He knew Dean was close to his tipping point and if that happened then this hospital was going to have more on their hands than they could handle. The young hunter paced in tight circles looking at the clock every few seconds.

"Relax? Have you lost your freakin' mind Bobby?" Dean barked. "How the hell can you be so calm? Sammy's paralyzed Bobby…"

"Look we won't be any help or support to him if we're too busy going off half-cocked, right?" Bobby gently suggested. "The paralysis was only in his right leg, Dean," Bobby replied. "His right arm had some movement … it's not like he can't feel anything, he just can't move his leg but his left side is fine." Bobby was trying to find some little glint of silver lining is this truly horrible day.

"Two hours Bobby," Dean ranted as he jabbed a finger toward the wall clock. "Nothin' at all for two hours … not since they took him away for tests and shoved us in here. I'm not waiting one damn more minute," Dean started to storm toward the door in search of his little brother.

"Dean," Bobby started to stand to stop him or at least calm him down before storming out into the hospital and getting himself thrown out by security. There was a knock on the door before Dean reached it to leave. Bobby let out a sigh of silent thanks. Dean stopped dead in his tracks as Dr. Lowe and Dr. Goosby entered.

"What the hell happened to my brother? Where's Sam?" Dean fired off the questions at break neck speeds.

"Why don't you have a seat with your uncle and we'll discuss Sam with you," Dr. Lowe suggested as he kept his voice even.

"You can go screw yourself," Dean hissed. "I told you people that you should have done something … another scan because of his headache and you didn't … you said you'd wait until morning and then he wakes up paralyzed. You people wouldn't know a symptom if it walked up and bit you on your asses." The doctors took a step back at Dean's anger.

"Dean!" Bobby shouted. "You watch your mouth," he scolded. "Let them speak and sit your ass down in that damn chair before I put you in it myself," Bobby stared the young man down.

"Fine," Dean huffed. "But …"

"No, buts," Bobby's voice was stern. "Sit," the single word brooked no arguments. Dean sat angrily down into the chair and turned hard eyes toward the two physicians. "Doctors," Bobby motioned for them to sit at the large conference table. The men offered tense smiles. Dr. Goosby walked over to a light panel and shoved some scans into it and turned the lights on before sitting. Dean could see what he had come to recognize as MRI scans and knew they were his brother's.

"Thank you Mr. Singer for being a voice of reason," Dr. Lowe began and stopped as Bobby raised a finger.

"Look don't go mistaking me controlling Dean as anything more than it was," he looked serious. "Now, we both told you we thought Sam should have been looked at immediately when he complained about that headache," Bobby could see the doctor about to speak and he slapped his hand down on the table. "You can speak when I'm finished." Dean turned surprised yet pleased eyes from Bobby back to the shocked doctor's. "I know Sam said he was fine and his vitals weren't showing any real signs of trouble but dammit you don't have to wait for a car to hit you before you move out of the way. You should have done something and you didn't … that boy can't move his right leg and he can barely move is right arm … I want my nephew fixed and you people dropped the ball in his care and I half a mind to see that these boys sue your asses for malpractice." Dr. Lowe cleared his voice and Dr. Goosby visibly bristled at the allegations and threats that Bobby was slinging toward himself and his colleague.

"Mr. Singer…" Dr. Goosby started.

"No!" Bobby barked. "I'm speaking right now, not you," he warned the doctor. "Things have snowballed ever since my nephew was admitted. He's got his whole life ahead of him and I won't tolerate any hint of laziness in his care." There was moment of silence. "Now, what in the hell are you doing to help Sam?"

"What's wrong with my brother?" Dean demanded when Bobby had finished ripping the doctor's.

"Here on his scans," Dr. Gossby dove right into the conversation as he stood to point at two of Sam's scans that had been enlarged. "It obvious he's had an increase in pressure over the last few hours. He was adamant about not needing a scan last night and his vitals didn't indicate the need, however we admit the ball was dropped in the fact we should have tried to persuade Sam to have the precautionary scan that evening, but because we had no outward indicators that he was experiencing a detrimental pressure increase we let it go until morning."

"So, there's more pressure," Dean started. "Is that why he can't move his leg and his arm barely moves?"

"Yes," Dr. Lowe chimed in. "We both are certain that we just need to adjust Sam's steroids and increase his dexamethasone. We've increased his IV dexamethasone to 24 mg. per day and we are hopeful we'll start seeing some improvements within twenty-four hours and once the swelling has dropped we are confident he'll get the use of his right leg back and his arm we expect will become fully functional, as well."

"You're sure it's swelling and he didn't have some kind of stroke or something," Dean pushed.

"There is absolutely no indication of stroke," Dr. Goosby assured.

"And, you think the higher dosage is gonna work?"

"Yes, we're confident," both physicians agreed.

"Yeah, well, _confident_ isn't any kind of a guarantee, it's more like you're hoping rather than you're sure," Dean's voice sounded both skeptical and angry.

"He's right," Bobby spoke up before either doctor could say anything. "If you two are stumbling in the dark here then we have a right to know … are you sure it's due to swelling and you didn't miss anything?" Bobby face was hard.

"All indications point to the increased perilesional edema as the direct cause for Sam's partial paralysis. We've studied the scans and the other test results and we're at the conclusion that as the old saying goes if it walks and quacks like a duck it's a duck, so we're pretty sure the increased dose will alleviate the problem." Bobby raised an eyebrow at both men over the duck analogy.

"Quack like a duck, huh?" His voice was serious. "Yeah, well, you can put a cat in an oven and it doesn't make it a biscuit." The older man replied in kind. "And it's funny you should mention the word _quack_ because if you screw this up and that boy never gets better on his right side," Bobby inclined his head toward Dean. "Then he's the least of your worries in the realm of pissed off family members … and just because I've been trying to be the _voice of reason _as you like to put it don't go thinking that I won't nail you both to the wall if I feel you've screwed up Sam's care and treatment. You haven't seen me very angry yet and you don't want to," Bobby assured.

"Where's Sam?" Dean asked as he smiled at Bobby before looking at the doctor's.

"He's been returned to his room," Dr. Lowe answered. "I understand both of your frustrations and concerns, but let me assure you my number one priority is to get Sam better, on his feet and out of this hospital, so he can go on with his life and chalk this up to a bad chapter in his life he can put behind him. Dr. Goosby and I both feel this way."

Dean and Bobby both offered tight nods.

**Ten Minutes Later, Sam's Room**

Dean and Bobby entered the shared room that Sam had with two other roommates. They could see that Sam's curtain was closed and they heard Sam's nurse speaking to him but couldn't quite make out what she was saying as they entered. "Use the call button if you need anything Sam" and she scooted out from the curtain and met eyes with Dean and Bobby.

How's he doing?" Dean whispered near the door.

"Well, he's upset and that's understandable. He isn't able to walk himself to the bathroom right now and I think that is frustrating him the most. He's been pretty adamant about not using a bedside lavatory, but it's necessary right now. He's all ready been started on the higher dosage level schedule and hopefully we should start seeing some kind of improvement within twenty-four hours or so."

Dean nodded. "I'll leave you alone. I told him if he needed anything to use the call button, but you know how he is…"

"Yeah, I know. I'll use it if I think he needs something, okay?" Dean offered. "I know he can be stubborn." She smiled and left. Dean started to walk toward the curtain.

"Dean?" Bobby put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"I think I'll pop in and say hi, maybe spend about a half-hour or so and then leave you boys on your own for the rest of the afternoon. Maybe, swing back by tonight to see him for a little bit," the older hunter offered.

"You don't have to Bobby. Sam likes having you around," Dean countered.

"Yeah, well, I think it might be good for the two of you to have some alone time and I think he'll appreciate having some breathing room for a little bit. He's had a hard morning so far." Dean nodded.

"Sammy?" Dean's voice was soft when he skirted around the curtain. Sam was on his back with his eyes closed. Dean watched them open when his younger brother heard his name. "Hey Sammy," Dean forced the upbeat tone.

"Uh, huh," Sam grumbled and turned his head away. Bobby and Dean shared a look.

"So, I hear from the docs that you should be running marathons once the drugs start working," Bobby offered. "You'll be good as new soon enough." Sam looked at the older man.

"Yeah, that's what I here," he offered.

"Come on Sammy," Dean pushed. "It's temporary … the doc said so. He's pretty sure the new dosages will work, okay? Anyway, Bobby ripped them both a new one, so I think they'll be too scared shitless to screw up now, huh?" Sam looked at Bobby and offered a partial grin. It wasn't Sam's usual smile but it was better than nothing and it made both Dean and Bobby feel just a fraction lighter in their chests.

**Four Hours Later**

The curtain moved gently as a dietary technician delivered Sam's lunch tray. "Mmm," Dean sniffed as he attempted to make the food appealing to his little brother. They had been keeping busy playing Blackjack and Poker. Sam hadn't been very talkative and Dean had stopped pushing. "Looks good Sammy," he commented over the cheeseburger.

"You think it looks so great help yourself," Sam replied.

"Look Sam this isn't easy for you, I know, but you gotta pull yourself out of this, all right? It's not permanent and you're going to be out of here soon. You need to eat." He pushed the tray closer on the rolling bedside table. He took a closer look at the tray and noted the burger, fries, a cup of apple sauce and a Jell-O chocolate pudding cup. "This burger looks a little weird when you really look at it," he commented idly as he looked at it closer and what's with the orange fries?" Sam did chuckle at that and Dean quirked an eyebrow up. "What'd I say?"

"That burger is made out of soy Dean .. it's a soy burger and the fries are orange because they are sweet potato fries." Dean's lips puckered into a grimace of disgust.

"Soy? You mean it's that health food crap?"

"Well, you can't be serving a heart attack on a plate to hospital patients Dean … anyway there are some people who don't consider red meat the center of the food universe."

"Yeah, then they ain't human or they're not right in the head," he groused. "Damn … soy, really?" Sam smiled a genuine smile and Dean felt warm.

"Want my pudding cup?"

"You sure?"

"Yeah," Sam answered with a smile and used his left hand to pass the cup and spoon to his big brother. Dean smiled like a kid let loose in a candy store to buy whatever he wanted.

"Hot damn," Dean replied quickly as he swooped on the cup. "You're missing out Sammy," Dean mumbled around a spoonful. "Missing out, I tell ya." Sam just shook his head in amusement.

**Later that Night**

"Night', Bobby," Sam replied to the older man as he started to get up and leave for the evening. He had come back in time to eat some dinner in the room with both Dean and Sam.

"Night', Sam," Bobby offered a grin. "I'll see you boys in the morning." Sam shifted his eyes toward his brother.

"Dean, you should go with Bobby and get a good night's sleep at the motel." Dean looked at his brother and sigh with annoyance.

"I said I was fine here. That sleeping chair is more comfortable than it looks," he offered. Sam rolled his eyes.

"It's only comfortable because your body's too exhausted to care."

"Look, I'm staying, so suck it up," Dean groused.

"Fine," Sam complained under his breath. Bobby said his final goodbyes and left the two brothers to their own devices for the night.

"So," Dean leaned back in his chair and stretched his back out. "Why are you trying to get rid of me? Am I driving you nuts or something or are ya just tired of my face?" he offered a mischievous grin.

"I just thought you could use some decent sleep that's all," Sam offered as he shifted ever so slightly in the bed as he pushed himself up a little with his left leg and arm. Dean didn't miss the underlying look of discomfort.

"You okay?" Dean leaned forward and studied his brother.

"I'm fine," Sam hissed.

"Sure you are? Come on Sam … you look like you just ate a lemon or something." He watched Sam's face blush and his cheeks redden before he looked at his big brother. There eyes met briefly and Sam looked away. Dean recognized embarrassment when he saw it, especially in his little brother. "What?"

"I," Sam licked his lips out of nervousness.

"You what? Spit it out Sammy … I'm not a mind reader."

"I gotta go to the bathroom, okay?" Sam huffed.

"Geez, is that all," Dean answered easily and then he remembered what Sam's nurse Cara had mentioned about this very topic. "Um, you want me to get your nurse?"

"No!" Sam spoke hastily.

"Okay, how about one of those bed things … I mean you can pee in that plastic bottle thing," he jerked his thumb toward the plastic bedside urinal that was on a storage shelf in Sam's cubicle. "I could get it for you," Dean offered.

"Dammit," Sam barked under his breath. "I don't need to…" his voice dropped off and he just stared at his hands in mute frustration. It dawned on Dean and he let out a gentle sigh.

"Oh, okay Sammy, I'm with ya now … you gotta go-go…" he reiterated with a soft grin trying to alleviate his brother's obvious discomfort and embarrassment. "You think if I can help you to the bathroom you could do it on your own or…"

"Jesus, Dean, I'm not a little kid," Sam hissed. "I don't need you to wipe my ass."

"No visuals Sammy, please…" Dean replied. "Then what do you want to do, huh? You can't stand on that right leg and it isn't like that right arm of yours is up to par just yet."

Sam balled up his left fist and slammed it down on his bed in frustration. "I hate this," he barked quietly. "Go tell Cara, all right … see if she can send in a male aide or something. I'll use the damn bedside john."

Dean stood up to go get the nurse and stopped. "I know you're frustrated Sammy but it's gonna be okay, all right? Let the med's work and you'll be your old self again in a couple days or so."

"Yeah," Sam offered quietly.

**One Hour Later**

"Sammy?" Dean's voice a bit hesitant and his brother looked at him.

"Huh?"

"Um… what does … ah, hell my Latin is crap, let me see if I remember it…" Dean rolled his eyes up toward the ceiling in thought."

"What are you talkin' about Dean? Latin?"

"I got it," he said suddenly. "What's _amour vincit omnia_ mean?" Sam leveled a truly perplexed face at his older brother.

"Where in the hell did you hear that?"

"Does it matter?" Dean wasn't sure he wanted to tell his sibling about the spirit priest or not.

"Well, it's kinda weird to just throw that out there…"

"Do you know what it means?"

"Yeah," Sam looked at his brother. "Love conquers all, so you want to tell me why you wanted to know?"

"I was just…" Dean sighed and decided his brother would just keep pressing the issue, so he decided he'd tell him.

"Just what?"

"A priest, okay? At a Catholic church in town near the motel where Bobby got a room.

"You went into a church just to go and not for a hunt?" Sam's eyes were wide in disbelief. "And you didn't burst into flames?" he jested.

"Ass-hat," Dean grumbled. "Hey I might not be Mr. 700 Club but …" he dropped his eyes from Sam's gaze.

"Why'd you go?" Sam asked softly trying to gauge his brother. "Or better when did you go? You never leave here."

Dean was silent for a long moment. "Dean?" Sam could see the vulnerable look on his big brother's face.

"It was when you slipped into a coma, okay? I got …" he stopped for a moment and Sam could see the uncomfortable tension in his brother. His big brother didn't do _feelings_.

"Dean, man you okay?"

"I got scared Sammy," he blurted. "I thought I was gonna lose you or something. I mean what if you didn't wake up, I just…"

"Ended up at church," Sam said as he smiled. "It's okay Dean, there's nothing wrong with it ya know and it doesn't mean your some kind of Bible thumper all of a sudden either, but why would a priest say _love conquers all _to you anyway?" Sam waited for his brother's response.

"I don't know," Dean replied. "It was a message he wanted me to give you."

"Me? What for?" Sam could see his brother was holding out on him. "Okay, spill," he insisted.

"Fine," Dean huffed. "He was a spook all right … you know Casper …"

"I understand spook," Sam lowered his voice so their conversations stayed private. He hated non-private hospital rooms. "You're telling me a you sat and talked to a ghost, a ghost priest."

"Well, I didn't know when I was talking to him, okay," Dean gave a flustered look to his little brother. "I wasn't exactly lookin' for signs ya know and he was normal…"

"What'd you talk about and why was he wanting you to pass along that Latin saying to me anyway? Did he tell you anything else to tell me?"

"I don't know Sammy," Dean grumbled. "I sort of had other things on my mind after he and I talked and then you started coming out of your coma but you were still out of another couple days…"

"Try to remember Dean," Sam pushed. "What were you and the priest talking about?"

"He was talking about his older sister that died way back when and I was talking about you … I don't know we might have each mentioned how we each thought our sibling was a bookworm or something like that," Dean frowned at his fuzzy memory.

"Come on Dean try to remember," Sam's voice was insistent. He saw a little light go on in his big brother's eyes for a moment. "What?"

"Oh yeah, I mentioned you liked to research a lot and he told me to tell you what you've been looking for … the answer has been in front of you for a long time or something like that…" Sam felt his gut clench knowing full well he's been spending most of his research time not hunting down or tracking the demon army but looking for a way to get Dean out of his crossroad deal.

"What else did he say Dean," Sam pushed. "It's important."

"Dammit Sammy," Dean huffed. "I don't know. Does it matter anyway? He's just saying to keep trying to find a way to send the demon army back to hell that's all."

"Please…" Sam turned on the famous Sam Winchester puppy eyes with just a hint of liquid glint in them. Dean sighed and rubbed a hand across his face in frustration.

"All right, it was some kind of cryptic mumbo-jumbo sounding thing," Dean searched his memory.

"Well?"

"I'm thinking," Dean huffed. "Oh eyah, he said something like it was when you lost faith in one and put it in another … I don't know Sammy, it was something like that, I think." Sam leaned back in his pillow trying to figure out what the priest was trying to tell him. He just had to figure the clues out … _the answer has been in front of him for a long time and was when he lost faith in one to place it in another_ …

"Sammy?" Dean leaned forward and studied his younger brother. "It was just cuckoo talk. Don't go racking your brain to figure it out, okay?"

"Yeah," Sam conceded just to appease his brother's concern. "So, did you …" Sam left the statement unfinished.

"No, I left him alone. He's not evil and like you said once if its' not evil we shouldn't kill it or whatever," Dean relented. "I think he moved on anyway, but if he's still there I'm not doing anything about it." Sam gave his brother a knowing smile. Dean pursed his lips. "Go to sleep Sammy," was his only response. Sam laughed lightly.

"Going soft, Dean."

"Bite me."

"Nice Dean," Sam retorted with amusement in his voice. "Jerk."

"Bitch."

**Late Evening**

Dean lounged from the sleeping chair and watched his brother sleep. Sam had been asleep a couple hours now and Dean was simply relaxing in the quiet cubicle. His brother's roommates were all asleep, as well. Dean was silently thankful that they were all quiet sleepers and none of them snored or anything. He was glad that the evening had gone much smoother once Sam had accepted the fact he needed help with using the restroom. Dean had stepped out to give his brother privacy. He knew that Sam hated appearing so needy and afraid. He was eager to see some results that the higher steroid dose was working … heads would roll if Sam didn't get the use of his leg and arm back. Sam was able to move his right arm fractionally but his leg still wouldn't budge.

He nestled down into the pillow Cara had given him for the night and looked at his brother one last time, "Night' Sammy," he whispered and pulled the blanket up to cut the chill. He hoped tomorrow brought some improvements for his little brother. He closed his eyes and succumbed to sleep.

**To Be Continued**

Sorry this wasn't ready for the weekend as I had hoped. I was just so buried in work it couldn't be prevented. I hope you enjoy this chapter and I withheld any major cliffhangers to give you a break. I'm hoping on one or two more chapters this should be finished. I appreciate you reading!


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**NOTE TO READERS: **Sorry, for the late post. I usually try to post on weekends but real life hasn't been slow lately and I haven't had time to write. I had intended for this to be the last chapter, but alas it appears you'll get one or two more out of me before this story is finished. This chapter is around 10 pages long, so I hope you enjoy it. I wanted to thank everyone that has taken the time to leave a review or to PM me, Thanks!!

Happy reading!

**Stay**

**Chapter Ten**

By Dawn Nyberg

"'_Till my body is dust, 'til my soul is no more, I will love you…"_ lyric excerpt by Fisher, _I Will Love You_

**Two Days Later, Neurology Unit**

"His right-lower extremity paralysis has finally begun to show signs of improvement," Dr. Lowe stood in the hallway near the nurse's station and spoke with Dr. Goosby. "And, there is marked improvement in his right-upper extremity weakness."

"Yes, I agree with your findings. His perilesional edema has improved but is still present, so I'd like to keep his current dosages and not adjust them down quite yet."

"I agree. I know his brother and uncle are biting at the bit to hear some reports and Sam, too." Dr. Lowe cast his eyes toward the hospital room. The beeper sounded on Dr. Goosby's waist. "I can talk to them and relay the new test results and scans you go answer your page." Dr. Goosby nodded a thank you to Dr. Lowe and excused himself.

**A Moment Later, Sam's Bedside**

"So, Doc, I want to know why my brother isn't up and walking yet … It's been way over twenty-four hours."

"Dean, let him talk," Sam urged quietly.

"The steroids are working there has been a great deal of improvement with Sam's right arm. He is able to grasp an eating utensil now and can squeeze my fingers on command with a lot more strength than he was able to previously before the new IV dosage of the dexamethasone. His right leg still has begun to improve and will continue to over the next handful of days."

"Handful of days!" Dean barked under his breath. "Doc my brother has been in this damn hospital for almost two months now. I want to take him home to our uncle's."

"Let him talk Dean," Bobby urged gently as he leaned forward. "So, doc you're sayin' that Sam just needs a few more days and his leg should be back to normal?"

"I'm confident the improvements will continue with the IV therapy and once we have him at a therapeutic level we'll switch to oral medication and stop the IV steroids. His leg is showing signs of movement and he is able to press against my hand minimally as opposed to two days ago when there was no movement at all."

"What about the brain swelling?" Bobby pushed. "The new scans show anything?"

"Dr. Goosby has seen a decrease in the edema but the swelling is still present, however the IV drugs are working. The anti-parasitic medications are continuing to work and of course this is lending to the edema, however we are being aggressive in his treatment." Dr. Lowe wanted to assure both men that Sam was being cared for and that they were staying ahead of any major issues.

"Doc?" Sam started. "So, this IV does it's thing … what happens after that?"

"Well, once we get you on your feet again, I'd like to see about discharging you with oral meds."

"Is he gonna be taking those anti-parasitic drugs when he leaves here?" Dean questioned.

"Yes," Dr. Lowe began. "As you know previously we had to stop treatment for a short while when Sam had surgery. However, now that he's on an actual dosage schedule I'm going to adhere to twice daily oral tablet for him." He shifted his eyes to the younger sibling. "Sam, your albendazole tablets will be taken twice daily on a 28 day cycle. Then you'll stop for 14 then repeat for a total of three cycles. Your case has been somewhat difficult, so I'd like to use an aggressive treatment schedule."

"That's a damn long time and a lot of crap pills to be takin'," Dean grumbled. "Is that treatment normal?"

"The treatment ranges differ, yes," Dr. Lowe stated simply. "But, I want to make sure we take care of this for Sam and there are no more problems. His care will be continued at the hospital near your uncle's home on an outpatient basis, so that his condition can be monitored." Dean and Bobby nodded.

"So, have you called _Greene Memorial_ yet about Sam's continued care?" Bobby questioned.

"Yes, I have all ready spoken with a Dr. Brewster in neurology and he has stated he would take Sam's case once he is released. I will give you all of the information before Sam is discharged." Bobby nodded.

"Thanks, Dr. Lowe," Sam's voice was quiet, yet sincere.

**One Week Later, Neurology Unit**

"Man, Sammy those new scans better come back okay or at least okay enough for them to release your ass in another day or two," Dean said as he shifted in his chair. "Both Bobby and I are going nuts, you know cabin fever."

"Well, my legs moving and I can stand on it and even walk, so I should be out of here," Sam relented. "I'm sorry you've been stuck here, too." Dean looked at his brother and smiled.

"Sammy-boy don't worry about it, okay?" He leaned forward and swatted his brother's right leg and was happy to see his brother move that leg away in frustration. "Anyway, there isn't any other place I should be until you're out of here."

"Thanks," Sam offered the best thing he could at the moment, a lop-sided dimpled grin for his brother and Dean just smiled in return. "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Did Bobby have to close down the salvage yard to be here? I mean, he's been here for over three weeks actually closer to four."

"Nah, he got a friend of his Randy to run the yard while he's been gone." Sam nodded. "Hey, no worries Sammy," Dean assured. "There's no way in Hell that Bobby would have stayed away once he heard about you being in the hospital."

"Hey Boys," Bobby pushed aside the curtain enough to walk in. Sam and Dean both looked at the older hunter and looked like two deer caught in headlights. "What?" he looked at them with curiosity. "Did I miss somethin'?"

"Huh?" Dean answered quickly. "Nah, nothin' just sittin' here shootin' the breeze with Sammy." Both Dean and Sam exchanged quick looks and both were glad Bobby hadn't heard their conversation.

"Uh, huh," Bobby looked skeptical. "Why do I feel like my ears should be burnin'?" Both brothers simply smiled. "So, you hear from the doc yet?"

"Nope, not yet, but he should be here soon."

The hunters chatted easily among themselves for a few minutes just passing time waiting for the doctor. "Hey," Dean started. "I think I'm going to go get me a cup of Joe from the cafeteria … either of you want somethin'?"

"Nah, I'm good," Sam answered first.

"Nope, I'm good," Bobby replied. "I'll keep Sam company until you get back."

"Okay, hey, if the doc shows up … don't let him leave until I get here, okay? I'll be right back."

"Sure thing," Bobby replied. "You got it." Dean walked over to another chair he had draped his leather coat over and leaned over to grab his wallet from the pocket. Sam idly watched his brother and squinted as a piece of sunlight came through the window and hit his brother's amulet casting a bright reflection his way. He was suddenly mesmerized by the amulet and blinked. Dean stood back up and headed out of the room with a quick word that he'd back soon. Sam turned to Bobby with wide-eyes.

"Sam? What is it?" Bobby's voice was serious.

"I understand what that priest was sayin' now," Sam blurted out in rushed words. "I know what he meant now." Bobby sat dumbfounded as he tried to understand what Sam was talking about.

"What priest are you talkin' about Sam? What do you understand now?" Sam looked at Bobby and smiled.

"I know how to save Dean," he answered with excitement.

**Twenty Minutes Later**

Bobby sat trying to wrap his mind around the fact Dean had never mentioned talking with a spirit priest at the local Catholic Church down the street from his motel. Sam had filled him on what the priest had said to Dean and the message he asked him to pass along to Sam when he woke up. "So, you're saying the amulet might play a part in getting Dean out of his crossroad deal," Bobby eased forward keeping his voice low behind the closed privacy curtain.

"It has to be it Bobby," Sam answered excitedly. "It makes sense with what the priest said about it's been in front of my face for a long time and it wasn't until I saw the amulet I remembered when and why I gave it to Dean for Christmas. I was mad at Dad for lying to me and I lost faith in him and placed it all in Dean, it makes sense Bobby." The older man continued to process the information and theory that Sam was formulating. Sam had told him the cryptic message the priest had conveyed. "Bobby?"

"Just thinking," Bobby replied quickly when he detected Sam's tension in his voice.

"What was special about it Bobby? When you gave it to me you said it was special."

"It was just supposed to have some protection qualities to it," Bobby began. "Honestly Sam, I gave it to you so you'd have something to give your daddy for Christmas because you seemed a little upset you didn't have anything. I just thought it'd pass for a gift ya know?" Bobby answered honestly. "But, it is supposed to offer up protection or something like that to its wearer. I don't know the complete mythology around it."

"I gotta figure it out Bobby 'cause if there's the slightest chance it'll save Dean then I gotta know. I mean the priest had to have been talking about it, he had to!" Sam's voice was insistent and excited.

"Now, Sam I know you're getting yourself all riled up over this but you're still mending, okay?"

"Bobby I've wasted two months in this place and that's two months less that Dean has now," Sam's eyes liquid brown pools of angst and it tore at Bobby's heartstrings when he looked into the young man's eyes. "Five months Bobby, he's only got five months left," Sam lamented in a choked and quiet voice. Bobby reached out a comforting hand and placed it on Sam's right forearm and squeezed.

"Easy Sam," Bobby comforted. "We're gonna figure this out and I told you once all ready that I haven't stopped looking not since you've been in here, okay?" Sam nodded solemnly.

"So, you think the amulet might be something?" Sam's eyes held hope and Bobby wasn't prepared to dash that hope.

"Yeah, sure," he answered. "Anything is possible. I'll look into it and when you're on your feet again you can take over some of the research but that brother of yours is gonna be difficult," Bobby hedged.

"He can't know Bobby," Sam replied quickly. "If he thinks I might have a real lead he'll do everything in his power to shut me down because he's afraid I'll…" Sam left the sentence unfinished. Bobby looked at him grimly. He knew the terms of the deal, if Dean tried to mess with the deal or get out of that the deal would then be canceled and Sam would die.

"Ain't gonna happen kiddo," Bobby voice was filled with strong conviction. He wasn't going to lose either of the boys.

"What's not gonna happen?" Dean's voice chimed in as he gave a small shove to the privacy curtain.

"Huh?" Bobby masked. "Nothing," he looked at his watch. "You've been gone damn near a half hour Dean … what'd you do? Go hunt down Juan Valdez and make him harvest fresh coffee beans for you?"

"Ha-ha very funny," Dean mused dryly as he took a seat on Sam's left bedside. "It was a long _damn_ line. I was behind at least fifteen people and one cashier," he grumbled. "I didn't miss the doc did I?"

"No," Sam answered easily. He shared a look with Bobby as Dean took a long swig from his steaming coffee cup.

"I miss anything while I was gone?" Dean looked from his little brother to Bobby.

"Nope, nothing," Sam answered deadpanned and Bobby couldn't help but suppress a grin at how easily that kid could lie to his big brother and not bat an eye when needed.

**Four Days Later, Neurology Unit**

"Well, Sam here are your walking papers," Dr. Lowe handed the discharge papers to Sam.

"Is this really necessary doc?" Sam asked as he frowned from his wheelchair.

"Sorry, it's hospital policy but as soon as you're outside the lobby doors you'll be on your own steam."

"So, everything is set-up with _Greene Memorial_ for Sam's outpatient care?" Bobby asked as he pushed himself off the wall and approached the doctor.

"Yes, and he's due for a scan on Friday at noon, okay? Now, if you get any headaches Sam I want you to err on the side of caution and go to the ER near your uncle's place, okay?"

"Don't worry doc, if he so much as sneezes I'll have at the ER," Dean assured as Sam rolled his eyes. "So, you're really sure his head is gonna be okay?"

"Yes, and Dr. Goosby has found no further vascular problems to indicate any concern for another hemorrhage." Dean and Bobby both nodded.

"Well, no offense doc but I want to get the hell out of Dodge, all right?"

"No offense taken," the physician assured.

**One Month Later, Bobby's Place**

"That brother of yours catches wind of this and he's gonna pitch one hell of a fit," Bobby rubbed his face with a nervous hand.

"Well, he's not going to find out is he?" Sam pushed. "Look he's not here right now Bobby and he's not due back until the day after tomorrow with helping Ellen out with a mass exorcism. I still can't believe she and some hunters managed to sucker five demons into a devil's trap."

"Yeah, well he's been calling at least three times a day to make sure you're resting or that you're feeling okay … you honestly think I'm going to be able to stall him much passed two calls where he isn't going to demand to talk to you," Bobby leveled Sam with a hard look.

"Look, I know you're in a tough position Bobby but I gotta go talk to this psychic lady in Wyoming that Jefferson put me in contact with and he says she knows how to use the amulet and what I'll have to do to try and save Dean. It's getting down to the wire Bobby; four months … I have to do this."

"Fine, but you call me when you get there and you stay sharp," Bobby warned. "We got hundreds of demons running around and …"

"I know Bobby," Sam comforted. "I'll stay sharp," he affirmed.

"You're brother is going to go erupt when he knows you've run off."

"I know, but I'll be back in three or four days. Hey, it's not like I'm turning off my phone, I'll be in contact and he can call me. I'm just not telling him where I am."

"Your cell has GPS you know," Bobby countered. "It wouldn't be the first time he's thought to use it to find your ass."

"I know," Sam offered a mild smile. He did remember, his brother had told him when he had been possessed by Meg he had thought to use the GPS to locate him when he went after Jo while under demonic influence.

**Three Days Later, Bobby's Place**

"What in the hell was he thinking!" Dean paced wildly around Bobby's study. "And, you," he turned on the older man. "He still needs to rest after everything and you let him go on some goose chase. Where'd he go? Who's he talkin' to?" Dean barked.

"I don't know all the details Dean," Bobby admitted and it was part truth. He knew all he had to do was call Jefferson to find out the woman's name and location in Wyoming if he had to. "Look he called and checked-in when he got where he was going. He's fine. Anyway, you know the doc gave him a clean bill of health and he finished all of his anti-parasitic treatment, you've just been coddling him and driving him nuts might I add." Bobby replied. Dean's face showed clear frustration.

"You know what happened in Rapid City Bobby, how can you act like he shouldn't be resting, huh? He almost died," Dean shouted. He grabbed his cell phone up from a nearby desk and scrolled down to his brother's name and hit send. It rang and went to voice mail. "See!" he shouted. "You said yourself that he said he'd pick-up and he isn't … dammit all to hell," Dean spat.

"Well, maybe those last ten messages you left on his voice mail threatening bodily injury and calling him a stupid dumb ass might not be the best …"

"He knows better than this … what's he up to?" Dean ranted with his arms gesticulating angrily in the air as he paced. The clarity of the situation hit Dean like a semi-truck and he turned blazing eyes on Bobby. "It's about the damn deal isn't? He's out there following a lead isn't he?"

"Dean, it might not even pan out, you can't…"

"I can't what?" Dean yelled. "I can't stop him from trying to save me … I can't protect him from himself? Damn you! You should have stopped him; you know what could happen … you know the terms!"

"Dean he's never stopped researching and you know it … nothing has happened, maybe it was all an empty threat … maybe they want a Winchester bad enough to let Sam do whatever the hell he wants as long as he doesn't get too close to a way out before they follow through with the terms of the deal, maybe they won't risk letting you out."

"Maybe? Maybe!" Dean spat. "I'm not risking Sammy's life on a maybe, if anything happens…" Dean's throat constricted at the thought. Memories of Cold Oak swept over him and he felt cold. Dean was just about to start ranting again when his cell phone rang. The call ID sent a wave of relief through him it said: Sam's cell.

"Sammy! Where the hell are you? You okay?"

"I'm fine Dean," Sam's voice sounded strong and sure. Dean felt some of the tension over the last three days waxing away ever so slightly. "Look I'm about three hours away now, I'll be home in time for dinner," he joked.

"Dinner? Look you stupid ass," Dean barked. "You're an idiot looking for a lead on getting me out of this deal." There was a moment of silence on the phone. "What? You don't think I'm capable of putting two and two together? Bobby didn't rat you out but he should have," Dean gave the older hunter a pointed look across the room.

"Yeah, but I think this could really work Dean. I spoke to a lady and I'll tell you about it when I get back. It's a way where both of us will be fine, so I'm sure you'll go for this," Sam replied with excitement.

**Three Hours Later, Bobby's Place**

"I hear a car comin'," Bobby stood up from the kitchen table and looked out the window. "Yep, it's that clunker Ford Festiva I loaned your brother. Looks like crap but it runs." Dean laughed at the idea of his long, tall and lanky little brother folding himself it a thimble sized car.

"Ford Festiva," Dean choked on his beer. "I gotta get a picture of this," he ran out with his cell phone to catch a picture. Both men went outside to meet Sam.

Sam looked calm and at ease Dean noted, two countenances his little brother hadn't had as late, at least not since the night the Devil's Gate opened and he found out about the crossroad deal that was made. Sam was smiling as he climbed out of the car. "Funny Dean," he jested at the sight of his big brother taking a picture.

"Had to Sammy," Dean countered. "This is priceless, it's like the Jolly Green Giant driving one of those little clown cars from the circus."

"Yeah, yeah," Sam started walking toward Bobby and Dean who stood waiting on the steps of Bobby's house. Sam casually threw his backpack over his shoulder. Sam was stilling smiling when a black smoke materialized suddenly and coalesced into a human looking figure. The figure was of a man with dark hair and eyes black as pitch.

"Consider this your only warning Winchester," the demon spat and Dean's eyes flashed in anguish as he watched his brother's fading smile contort into a look of pain and agony. It happened in slow motion as Sam dropped to his knees and pitched forward into the dirt of Bobby's driveway. "You've been warned," the demon hissed and billowed up and into the air.

Dean's legs were moving before he even realized he was running for his brother. Sam was wearing jeans and pale blue T-shirt, and the red growing blossom of blood on Sam's back made Dean's heart hammer wildly. Bobby was at Dean's heels as they reached Sam's unmoving body.

"Sammy!" Dean skidded across the last couple feet in the dirt on his knees to reach his brother. One hand instinctively going to his little brother's bleeding back. Dean swallowed down the bile as the warm blood slicked across his fingers. "Sammy?" Dean's voice choked. His other hand shaking so badly he couldn't locate Sam's pulse point in his neck.

"Here let me," Bobby reached down. His hand was steady but his heart was hammering under his sternum. His fingers pressing inward to feel for a pulse as Dean looked expectantly at the older hunter.

**To Be Continued**

Well, best laid plans don't always work out, huh? I had intended for this chapter to be the last one but it looks like there will be at least one more maybe two. The story sort of took an extra turn and I've decided to go with the flow. However, I do hope to finish with the next chapter or two.

Thanks for reading, I appreciate it!!


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**NOTE TO THE READERS: **Sorry, this post is a little late in coming. Real life has been way too busy for me. This is the final chapter of the story, so I hope you enjoy it. It's around 10 pages long, so it's a small chunk. As always, thank you to everyone who has read every chapter of this story. Thank you to every reviewer and person that has sent a PM. Happy reading!

**Stay**

**Chapter Eleven**

By Dawn Nyberg

"_To have his path made clear for him is the aspiration of every human being in our beclouded and tempestuous existence." _By Joseph Conrad

Bobby let out a sigh of relief as he felt the thrumming pulse under his fingers. "He's alive," he blurted quickly as he leaned down toward Sam's mouth and nose. "He's breathing, too. I'm gonna call 911," Bobby pushed back on his haunches and got up. "Keep pressure on the wound," he shouted as he ran toward the house.

"Stay with me Sammy," Dean pleaded. "You here me? You stay with me!" Dean continued pressing down on the sticky blood blossom on his little brother's back.

**Six Minutes Later, Bobby's House**

Bobby stayed at Sam's side along with Dean as they waited for the ambulance. He lived outside town and it was a bit of a trip for the paramedics. Bobby had always liked the privacy the acreage and location of his salvage yard had provided him but now he cursed it. "Sammy," Dean took his free hand and tried to rouse his sibling but Sam remained unmoving partially on his side and stomach. Both Dean and Bobby had been too afraid to adjust Sam that much and were more focused on the bleeding wound. "I can't lose him Bobby, not again … I can't." Dean's eyes were filled with raw anguish.

"He's still with us Dean," Bobby tried to assure as he kept his hand firmly encircled around Sam's wrist assuring himself there was still a pulse. There was the approaching sound of sirens and Bobby could see dust kicking up in the distance and knew they had turned off the main road and were on his property. "Help's coming," Bobby allowed one hand to rest on top of Sam's head. "You're gonna get patched up and be just fine Sam," Bobby's voice was strong. "You hear me Sam? Help's coming."

**Three and Half Days Earlier, Carlile, Wyoming**

"I can see why Jefferson sent you to me for help with your brother's situation." Myra Fleming, a mid-sixties petite woman dressed in jeans and with a white T-shirt that bore the picture of a dog with the words _I love my Border collie_. Sam had to smile at the woman despite the seriousness of the reason he had come to find her.

"So, can you help? I mean about the amulet and how to use it to help my brother?"

"Crossroad deals are a bitch to break," she answered flatly. Sam blinked in mild surprise at the older woman's blunt words. "Not impossible but not easy. It's much better if you have something to bargain … the amulet isn't the complete fix," she stopped and looked at Sam for a long moment and smiled softly. "You remind me of your father," her voice was kind.

"You knew my dad?" Sam felt a twinge of hollowness at the thought of his father. He missed him and suspected he always would.

"Yes, for a few years," she replied. "He came to me for some information once during a hunt up at the Devil's Tower, it was a Wendigo … he came with Caleb Reeves." Sam nodded solemnly … yet another person in his life lost. "I was sorry to hear about your father and Caleb … Jim, too."

"Thanks." Sam's voice was quiet.

"So, your brother made a deal to bring you back from the dead, eh?" She cut right to the chase and it left Sam temporarily speechless.

"Yeah," Sam's voice caught slightly in his throat.

"And, you're as pissed as rabid raccoon about it, right?" Sam chuckled quietly.

"Yeah, yeah I am," he paused a moment. "It's just, well …" Myra smiled knowingly.

"It's just you didn't ask to be saved and he didn't give the choice," she replied. "Not to mention he's made the decision to leave you in this world all alone when it's on the brink of damnation because of a demon war." Sam offered a tight nod. "You're allowed to be pissed Sam," she assured.

"Can he be saved?"

"The amulet is a key Sam but it is only part of the puzzle. I wish I could tell you one way or the other, but sometimes deals made at the crossroad, well it's just that deal's are made that are mutually beneficial and…" Myra left it unsaid.

"You mean the demon wouldn't have made the deal for Dean's soul unless they wanted his soul, right?"

"That's my guess," she replied. "Your father and brother have been in the game longer than you Sam and you stepped out for a couple years and…" she stopped speaking when she saw Sam tense slightly.

"How do you know so much about my family," Sam's voice was slightly accusing. "My dad always said we do what we do and we shut up about it, he wouldn't have talked to you." Sam stood up abruptly. "Christo!" he shouted and Myra sat there and smirked.

"I'm not possessed Sam. I'm a psychic you know that … Jefferson told you I was and your father talked about you, he was proud of you even though you being away at college scared him. All I meant is that your dad and brother have been a pain in the ass to a lot of evil things over the years especially of the demonic kind. They want another crack at a Winchester." She paused a moment. "Anyway, I read minds but I don't go rifling through private thoughts unless I'm invited to or it's an emergency. Now, will you sit down and relax," she leaned forward and patted the couch across from her chair. "How about some fresh lemonade? I bet you're thirsty after that long drive."

Sam eyed her suspiciously for a moment but he trusted his gut and it was telling him that she was genuine and she could be trusted. "Another crack at a Winchester?" Sam questioned. "Then why not let me stay dead … Dean would have walked away. I talked to Bobby and he told me Dean had said he was done with it all but …"

"But, he couldn't live with you being dead Sam … you're his little brother and in a lot of ways his touchstone to what is still good in this life. Being a hunter isn't an easy life Sam and you keep your brother grounded." Sam felt his chest tighten at the thought.

"Still why not let me stay dead? Why his soul?"

"I think you have an idea or two," she replied.

"Nah, it's not me dammit," Sam hissed. "It's all done; my abilities are gone they went with the Yellow-Eyed Demon. I'm not their leader, I never will be," Sam assured vehemently. Myra offered a calm smile and reached over and patted one of Sam's hands as it rested in his lap.

"Young man," she started with a solemn look in her eyes. "I wish I could tell you they are gone, your abilities, but…"

"No they are," Sam answered quickly. "It's been a few months now and nothing. No more visions, there's been nothing."

Myra shook her head apologetically. "Sam you were born special and the demon that touched your life and your family's didn't give you those abilities. They are maturing, psychic abilities can manifest in bursts like your visions … they were unpredictable, yes?"

"Yeah, but…" Myra raised a hand.

"No but, Sam, and there has been other manifestation of abilities too, correct?"

"Telekinesis but that was a one time a fluke. I just had visions, premonitions, they're gone," he tried to assure himself more than the older woman.

"Sam I can sense the power in you, I felt you when you were still miles away. To a psychic that is in touch with their gifts you're like a seismic jolt when you're in the area and unfortunately because of the magnitude of your gifts and their buried power you attract the supernatural to you like a mosquito to a bug lamp." Sam shook his head as he felt the hot sting of tears in his eyes. _No it's over, I'm not a psychic freak, I'm not_, his mind ricocheted that one thought. Myra leaned forward once again and took Sam's hand in both of hers. "Oh, Sam, you're not a freak, these are gifts," Sam looked at her accusingly for having invaded his thoughts. "I didn't mean to listen to your thoughts but they are literally screaming at me and I can't tune them out."

There was a long moment of silence between the two psychics. "So, if I'm still psychic why haven't I had any visions?"

"Sam, as I told you your abilities will come in bursts as they begin to mature but now they are silent because they are building, maturing."

"Maturing, what are you saying that there's more in me than having visions and the telekinesis?"

"Sam," her eyes were very serious. "I've never sensed a psychic as powerful as you and what you're capable of if you can harness these gifts, but…"

"But what?"

"I fear they may be too powerful for you … they could hurt you, make you ill, possibly kill you if they were unleashed and you couldn't gain mental control of them. At best they will be a painful burden when accessed just as your visions were unpleasant almost incapacitating. You must be very careful when utilizing your gifts Sam; you know the old saying that _absolute power corrupts absolutely_ you must be very careful. The level of your power if used to its full extent could," she paused a moment.

"Could what?" Sam's voice couldn't mask the fear.

"End everything," she intoned quietly. Sam sat there stunned for long minutes and Myra allowed him the time to mentally process everything that was said.

"So, it's just a waiting game then, huh?" Sam found his voice. "My abilities are going to come back and there are going to be more powerful."

"Yes," she answered flatly.

"That's it isn't the other key you were talking about … the other thing beyond the amulet, it's me, right? I'm the other key." Sam's eyes held both trepidation and excitement at the possibility he could save his brother from the crossroad deal. Myra nodded.

"The amulet in your possession can funnel and amplify your powers, I'm just not sure if anything will be left standing once you tap into that power and focus it through the amulet, but…"

"But, what?" Sam pressed. "What good are these so called gifts if I kill my brother in the process of saving him?"

"You have the power to shield your brother from harm Sam, but I have no idea how to tell you to do that. I don't know of any psychics that could, but your bond with him is strong and I believe you will most likely unknowingly shield him … just as the telekinesis came out that one time that allowed you to save his life." Sam nodded.

"You said a mutually beneficial deal could cancel the contract, right?"

"I said no deals are made that aren't mutually beneficial," she corrected. "You're not thinking of offering up your own soul are you? I doubt they'd accept."

"No," he answered flatly. "I know they wouldn't accept the offer. They need me as their leader more than they need me in hell."

"Sam…"

"If my abilities don't start manifesting before Dean's deal comes due I'll do what I have to," his voice was unwavering. "I told my brother when I found out about that damn deal that I'd do whatever it takes to get him out of it and I meant it."

"I know you meant it but do you really think you're brother would accept you bargaining not your soul but your very self to lead a demon army … Sam you'd be going against everything you, your brother and father have fought for, believed in, you'd lead an army against mankind? That wouldn't be saving Dean."

"I know, but I can't let him die for me no matter what," Sam pressed. "My abilities you say you can sense them, so do you know when they'll come back?"

"I feel them," she replied. "There are moments when I feel buffeted by miniature shock waves of psychic energy from you, I suspect they'll reemerge soon Sam, but how soon, I'm not sure. They are clawing toward the surface and that I'm sure of."

Myra showed Sam some meditative techniques to help him tap into himself, although no abilities manifested he was able to feel what he described as a low level hum under his skin in his entire body, like an electrical current and he knew she was right, he still had his abilities.

**Two Days Later, Myra's House**

"That's at least the tenth call from your brother aren't you going to pick up?"

"Nah, I listened to his voice mails and he's a little too pissed right now to even communicate with. I called Bobby when I got here he knows I'm okay. I should be getting back though."

"If you need me for anything Sam, feel free to contact me or stop by if you're ever in trouble or just need some advice. My abilities don't even come close to what's inside you but I have some very knowledgeable fellow psychic friends and we would try to help you any way we could." Sam nodded his appreciation.

"Thanks for telling me about the amulet Myra and about everything else."

"You're welcome, although I'm not sure how much help I've been. It seems no matter what you'll end up doing for your brother you'll be going from frying pan into another." Sam patted one of Myra's hands to try and reassure her. He understood what she was saying, either he finds a way to unleash his power or he agrees to lead a demon army, either way things would most likely never be the same for him again or his big brother and those closest to him.

**Greene Memorial Hospital, Critical Care Unit, Present Day**

Dean and Bobby sat by Sam's bedside. Dean still couldn't believe that Sam was still alive. He had lost enough blood to require three units of blood in a transfusion but the doctor had assured them he'd be fine. They had lied and said Sam had fallen against a car upholstery knife and that was the cause of his back injury. The medical staff that had assessed Sam in the ER had been amazed when the cut only turned out to be a deep laceration that hadn't inflicted any damage to Sam's spinal cord and there was no organ damage. They had given Sam blood, sutured his wound closed and given him fluids, now he was resting in the CCU.

Dean watched Sam for any movement. His brother was pale and the green oxygen tubing snaking around his face and under his nose was a stark reminder to both Dean and Bobby about much worse this could have turned out. As it was they were still waiting for Sam to open his eyes. He had moved a little, even scrunched his face a couple times but he still remained unconscious. The doctor had assured them when he was ready he would wake up. "Sammy?" Dean's voice was soft. He reached up and cupped his brother's pale albeit warm cheek. "Come on little brother nap times over," he coaxed. Bobby leaned forward and patted Sam's forearm.

"You heard your brother Sam, come on … rise and shine."

"It's been six hours Bobby," Dean began. "He should be waking up."

"Dean you know the doctor said he's gonna be fine and he'll wake up in his own time. Don't start reading into this, he's okay."

"Yeah, for now, you heard that demon," Dean said in a low voice. "This was a warning, Sammy got to close to a way out of the deal, and he's like a dog with a bone he won't stop." Dean looked at his sibling with worried eyes. "He's not dyin' on account of me Bobby."

"We'll figure something out, okay," Bobby wasn't sure what they'd do but Dean was right about one thing they had to figure out a way to dissuade Sam from further pursuits. Bobby just figured he'd take over the lead in an attempt to take Sam out of harm's way. He never agreed to anything from a demon, so he could keep pursing whatever it was that Sam found out in Wyoming.

**Two Hours Later, the Critical Care Unit**

Dean sat back in his chair and watched his little brother. Bobby had gone to get them both some coffee from the cafeteria. Sam's nurse and doctor had been in a short while ago and rolled Sam onto his side to examine his sutures and gently returned him to his back. Now, Dean just waited. It was a small movement that caught his eye at first and then he reached out and took his brother's hand in his own. "Sammy? You in there?"

A small noise escaped Sam's mouth as his lips parted ever so slightly. His brow creased a little and Dean smiled when Sam's head turned in the direction of his voice. "Sammy? Come on kiddo, rise and shine," he urged. He squeezed his sibling's hand gently.

"Dean?" the voice sounded quiet and small as Sam opened his eyes. He moved slightly but the discomfort in his back made him still instantly with a grown of discomfort.

"Easy, Sammy," Dean comforted. "You have stitches in your back, so be careful not to pull any out, okay?"

"Hurts," Sam complained quietly.

"I bet, I'll call your doctor," Dean pushed the call button. "So, aside from your back, how're you feelin'?"

"Tired…"

"Yeah, we'll you lost a lot of blood, the doc had to give you three units of blood to top off your tank Sammy," Dean answered as he studied his brother's pale face. "Are you in any other pain?"

Sam shook his head and then looked at his brother with a confused expression. "What happened anyway?" Dean shook his head in frustration.

"Damn demon showed up at Bobby's … opened your scar like zipper…"

"There was a demon attack? Are you okay? Bobby?" Sam looked confused and out of sorts. Dean looked at him hard for a moment.

"We're fine. Sam what do you remember?" Sam frowned as he filed through his last memory before waking. There was a female voice at the door before Sam could respond.

"Oh, you're awake, good; I'll page the doctor and have him come up to examine you." Dean nodded and Sam just looked at her.

"Sammy?" Dean pushed for an answer. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Is this Rapid City? I mean the room doesn't look …"

"Rapid City? Sammy that was a month ago. You got released from there, remember? We've been at Bobby's while you finished your treatment. You're all better now, no more stuff in your head." Dean assured.

"I don't know," Sam fought to remember. "I...I... I've got pieces but it's like some are missing, you know, gaps or something…"

"So, you do remember being at Bobby's now?"

"Maybe," Sam hedged. "Did you give the Impala an oil change in the salvage yard?" Dean smiled.

"Yeah, the first week we were at Bobby's after you got released from the hospital. "So, you do remember a little?"

"I guess but like I said it's a little fuzzy like gaps are missing." Dean suddenly had an idea.

"Sam, do you remember me talking to you about a priest?" Sam looked at Dean like he'd grown another head.

"Priest? No, should I? What priest?"

"Huh?"

"What priest?"

"Oh, nothin' there was a …" Dean fought to come up with a cover story. "A chaplain came to see you when you were in a coma that's all. I just mentioned it to you." Sam looked at his brother for a long moment and then just nodded. Dean quickly realized that the demon had obviously invaded Sam's mind and erased certain memories. Sam was a clean slate and had no memory of the cryptic message from the priest, let alone his mystery trip to get information on a lead to end the crossroad deal.

"Am I interrupting?" Dr. Bennett smiled spoke from the doorway. "I hear you finally woke up for us Sam."

"Yeah, I guess. I'm a little fuzzy on stuff."

"It's expected," the doctor stepped forward and looked from Sam to Dean. "Could we have a few moments while I examine him privately? I'll be out shortly." Dean nodded.

"Thanks Doc, you behave Sammy," Dean joked. Sam just rolled his eyes at his big brother.

**Ten Minutes Later, the Hallway Outside Sam's room**

"Did something happen?" Bobby's voice broke into Dean's train of thought. He looked up from the floor and saw the older man's panicked eyes at the closed door to Sam's room.

"No, he woke up. The doc is just checking him over." He saw Bobby visibly relax.

"Did he talk to you?"

"Yeah, he's gonna be fine," Dean answered with a small smile. "Bobby," he began quietly. "His memories are a little screwed up I think that demon did something. He doesn't remember any of it … the priest, his little trip out of state, none of it and I don't want him to know," Dean's tone had a hint of warning to it. "So, don't go filling in any blanks that have to do with that damn deal you got it?" Bobby offered a tight nod of agreement. "I mean it Bobby not one word, all right?"

"Yeah, okay," he replied. "You got it, not a word," he assured.

**One Week Later, Bobby's Place**

"You goin' out to watch your brother work on that car again?" Bobby asked with an amused smile from over his coffee mug.

"Yeah, well neither of you are letting me do squat since I got released from the hospital and I'm tired of books and the Internet. It's just stitches Bobby, I'm not gonna shatter into a million pieces."

"Yeah, well the doc said you needed to take it easy, so you're going to until he says otherwise, you got it?"

"Yes, sir," Sam answered in half annoyance and acquiescence.

"Good, that's what I like to hear," Bobby smiled. "Now, go bother that brother of yours," Bobby shooed gently. "The chili should be ready in about 40 minutes, okay?"

Sam nodded and gave Bobby a lopsided grin and left. Bobby listened for the sound of the front screen door slamming closed behind Sam as he walked out and then he leaned over the kitchen sink and made sure Sam was walking toward the direction of his older brother. He smiled to himself when he was sure that both boys were out of ear shot. He walked over to the phone and dialed a number.

"Jefferson?" he asked as he heard the other line picked up. "Yeah, it's me Bobby, I need a favor."

"What's that?"Jefferson's voice echoed over the land line.

"I need some information."

"Okay, what'd ya need?"

"The number of that psychic lady you sent Sam to," Bobby answered flatly. He was going to fix this. Dean and Sam would both live and he wouldn't lose either of them. He knew Sam was most likely an important key, but he'd make damn sure both boys would survive and he'd do anything he had to. Neither of them would be sacrificed or lost.

**The End**

Okay, before you go nuts, I had to find a place to end this story otherwise it would just go on and on. So, I picked a place where it's left open ended and we can see how Kripke ultimately fixes this whole crossroad deal debacle he put us in at the end of season 3. Although, I feel that the 'key' is Sam and that he will be the one to save Dean. How? I'm not sure but I have a few theories on how I think Kripke might handle it. At any rate, I hope you enjoyed the story and I apologize for the extended wait for this final post. Real life has been hammering me so bad that I wasn't able to post, let alone write last week, but for good or bad this is the final chapter. Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read this story. Also, thank you very much to everyone that has reviewed or PM'd me.

Until the next time … thank you!


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